would be all right.
“Yes, I’m sure you did. This friend-had you ever seen him before?.
“What do you mean?.
“I’m asking the questions here. I would think my meaning was perfectly clear; I used only
two words with more than one syllable.” She began limbering up her foot as though
preparing to kick him in a very sensitive area. The man watched her nervously.
“Uh, yes, I had seen him before.
Yvette cocked her head. “Talking to you, tovarishch, is like pulling teeth. I think we’ll add
a new rule to the game. It’s called completeness of answer, and the way it works is that
you try to answer each question as fully as you can, without making me ask a dozen to
get the whole story. Each time your answer is not as full as I’d like it, I break one of your
fingers. That’s known as incentive. Now, would you like to try that last answer one more
time?.
The poor clerk was sweating blood now. “Yes, I’d seen him before. He comes in here
fairly regularly-two, three, sometimes four times a week. I don’t know his name, though,
honest.
“And does he always check other people out of their rooms?.
“Always,” the man nodded. “The first thing I know about it is when he comes down to the
desk with all their luggage packed. He hands in the key and pays the bill in cash. The
hotel doesn’t care who checks out as long as the bill’s paid.
“No, I don’t suppose it does. He must be a remarkably friendly fellow to have so many
people trusting him with their belongings, don’t you think? No need to answer that, it was
just rhetorical. Tell me, though, don’t you think it’s strange that he does this so often?.
“Yes, I do. But I don’t think it’s any of my business.” “How much is this friend paying you
to think it’s none of your business?.
“Fifty rubles each time. But listen, I’ve got a wife and kids to support, I need. . . .
“That answer is getting a little too full thank you. I’m not interested in your personal
problems, although I am interested in your morality.” She stared straight into the man’s
eyes. “You know what’s happening to all these guests of yours, don’t you? The ones who
never check out for themselves?.
The clerk took a long, deep breath. There was no point holding any more back-this
woman obviously knew most of the story anyway. She was toying with him, seeming to
enjoy every little twist of the psychological knife she had stuck in him. “Yes,” he sighed.
“They’re being murdered. It’s a fact of life here on Vesa, and most people accept it. It’s
only tourists who are killed, never us natives. We accept it.
“Accepting it is one thing, but you’re actually helping it. How does that make you feel?
How can you go home to a wife and kids you supposedly love and yet know that you
have a hand in killing innocent people? How can you face them?.
The man shrugged as best he could while tied up. “If I didn’t do it, somebody else would.
Why shouldn’t I get the money out of it?.
Yvette sighed with exasperation. That rationalization had been in existence as long as
moral cowardice itself. There was probably at least one corrupt desk clerk in every hotel
on Vesa. There was no point arguing this matter further; to the best of this man’s limited
moral vision he had done no wrong. She decided to change her tack. “Don’t the police
ever bother you about these disappearances?.
“No, why should they? They’re under orders not to interfere.
Under orders? That brought Yvette right back to the point that had initially been brought
up in the Head’s office. “There’s only one person who can give the police an order like
that, isn’t there? The Marchioness.
“That’s what I understand. Look, I’m not really a part of this whole thing, I’m only paid to
look the other way. I’m no murderer, I don’t know anything about them. All I do know is
what I hear gossiped around, and people say that the Marchioness has given ‘hands off’
orders. That’s all I can tell you, honest. I don’t know anything else.
Yvette was inclined to believe him. This clerk was just a minor part of the operation; he
wouldn’t be privy to the conspiracy’s inner secrets. He had given her several leads and
confirmed a lot of what she’d already suspected. She shouldn’t press him for more.
“All right,” she said aloud. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Because you’ve been so
good at playing this game, I won’t hurt you.” The man’s body visibly sagged with relief. “I
will, however, have to keep you out of the way for a while, so that you don’t tell anyone
about my visit here. I’m turning the setting on this stunner down to seven; you’ll be out for
approximately thirty-six hours and groggy for a little bit after that, but there’ll be no
permanent effects. I’d suggest, though, that you move to some other planet and find a
new job at once, if you know what’s good for you-preferably an honest job.
The man started to protest, but to no avail. Yvette was already squeezing the trigger.
The clerk slumped bonelessly in his chair and Yvette stood up, put the gun back into her
purse and walked casually out of the office.
Looks like I’ll have to go right to the top, she thought. Flagging down a jit, she headed
back for her hotel so that she could get some sleep before paying a call tomorrow on
Marchioness Gindri.
In most places, the social calendar of someone as high ranking as a marchioness would
have made it impossible for Yvette to get an appointment sooner than two or three days
away. In the hierarchy of nobility, marquises ranked just below dukes, who ruled
individual planets. A marquis was the lord of a continent-or, in the case of Vesa, a
moon-and had a vast territory to oversee. The responsibility was enormous, and the
amount of time available for private audiences was therefore limited.
Yvette knew well enough the weight of such nobility. Her father, Etienne d’Alembert, was
the Duke of DesPlaines; because he was usually busy managing the Circus-and its
clandestine activities for the Emperor the planet was usually run by Yvette’s older brother
Robert who, as heir to the title of DesPlaines, went by the honorific of the next lower
rank, marquis. Robert was an anomaly among d’Alemberts-a man who preferred the
quiet harassment of running a world to the excitement of traveling with the Circus-and the
Duke was glad of the opportunity to dump the responsibility on the shoulders of his heir.
Yvette knew bow strenuous the governing of a planet could be from having seen her
brother in action, and she fully expected Marchioness Gindri to be as busy.
Instead, she found that-with the offer of a small bribe -she could convince the
Marchioness’s appointments secretary to schedule her for that very afternoon. She was
a little surprised, but pleased with the fast action. She told the secretary that she was
interested in investing some of her considerable fortune on Vesa, and was informed that
the Marchioness would be eager to hear her plans.
When she arrived, Yvette found the palace gaudy and pretentious-but she had expected
as much. Vesa itself was like that, so why should its ruler be any different? Precious
metals, expensive woods and exquisite marbles comprised the setting, with gems inlaid
into even the most trivial of objects. The display of opulence and bad taste offended the
SOTE agent, but she kept her feelings strictly in line. Not everyone was raised in a tent,
she reflected. Tastes differ.
She found it harder to keep her emotions in check when she was finally ushered into the
Marchioness’s presence. The meeting took place in the salon, a coo as ostentatious as
any Yvette had seen. The floor was an abstract pattern of inlaid tiles, the walls were of
brown marble and the high-vaulted ceiling was painted in an almost surrealistic design of
a spaceship battle that had never taken place. The arched entranceways were
supported by pillars a full four meters tall. The room was cluttered with furniture, all of it
upholstered in silver embroidered rose satin and wildly overstuffed.
In the center of the room, draped in pearls, sat the Marchioness Gindri, all one hundred
and fifty kilograms of her. Her pasty skin shook whenever she made the slightest
movement, like a tubful of jelly. Her eyes were deep-set and piggy, her nose large and
set flatly against her face. Her mouth seemed intrinsically incapable of closing
completely.
Beside and slightly behind the Marchioness’s chair stood a man whose face impressed
Yvette immediately. His mouth was ringed by a full brown beard and mustache, his eyes