tracking down and destroying the Galaxy-wide treasonous network of Banion the
Bastard, pretender to the throne-the two of them bad posed as Carlos and Carmen
Velasquez, two nouveau riche ex-Puritans. The Velasquezes had actually been a parody
of wealth, wearing outlandish costumes and throwing hundred-ruble bills around as
though they’d been kopeks. Amid the subdued richness of the planet Algonia they had
stood out like a supernova in a bathtub.
There had been a good reason at the time for such a broad burlesque. Banion’s forces
were getting closer to the day of their unleashing, and a tempting target had to be
offered. With no leads at all, the d’Alemberts had had to make absolutely certain that
they would be noticed. They were, of course, and the comparative small fry they caught
with that net had enabled them eventually to trace down the entire organization.
But Jules was right-the old Carmen would not be the sort of victim the Vesan murderers
were looking for. As flashy and funky as she was, she would make an impression even
on that flashy, funky moon. Her sudden disappearance would be noticed-something the
crooks were obviously trying to avoid. “Well,” Yvette admitted aloud, “there will have to
be some changes made. . . .
And indeed there were. The old Carmen had been a madcap wife; the new was a
sedate, rational widow. The old Carmen had dressed in outfits that showed as much
bare skin as the local law allowed; the new wore clothes that were elegant and
moderate, neither brassy nor matronly, but designed to show tastefully that there was
still a beautiful woman inside them. The old Carmen had glittered from head to toe with
expensive jewelry; the new, while not shunning such displays of opulence, wore her
jewels one or two at a time in such a manner as to tastefully enhance, rather than clash
with, her outfit.
The Empress Irene was one of the newest and most luxurious starliners cruising the
spacelanes-the natural vehicle for a person like Carmen Velasquez to utilize on her
vacation trip to Vesa. Her suite was spacious, with plush carpeting and drapes, a
king-size bed and a bathtub longer than she was. For her particular convenience, the
rooms had even been specially rigged for ultra-grav. While the entire ship, except for
certain recreation areas, was under one gee of artificial gravity, her own suite had been
raised to three at her request. Since Carmen was ostensibly from Purity-a heavy-grav
world settled in part by religious fanatics who broke away from DesPlaines-her request
for the higher gravity was in no way surprising.
The voyage from Earth to Vesa was to take ten days, but from the very first Yvette
established herself as one of the people aboard. As lovely and wealthy as she was, she
was constantly invited to dine at the captain’s table. When word got around that she was
single as well, men were lining up outside her door to escort her to dances or to offer to
be her partner in some of the many shipboard activities and sports. Yvette reveled in the
attention. After all, there was no law that a dangerous assignment had to be boring as
well.
On the fifth day out, Yvette met up with a very charming man from the planet Largo. His
name was Dak Lehman, he was an industrialist on vacation, and he was most girls’ idea
of a dream man. In his early thirties, he was a blend of mature sophistication and boyish
enthusiasm. He knew all the social graces, and could converse with both wit and
intelligence. Even more important, he knew the value of good listening. When he was with
a woman she felt she had his entire attention; a flattering quality that made him the
delight of all the females aboard ship.
It was only natural, then, that the two most attractive people aboard the liner should find
one another and become instantly attracted. Dak took Yvette to the dinner dance that
fifth night, and the beautiful SOTE agent knew she was in for a delightful evening. Dak let
her do most of the talking during the meal, which Yvette didn’t mind -it gave her a good
opportunity to practice her background story and polish it up for Vesa. She let her date
know that she was a widow at twenty-nine, but that her husband had left her exceedingly
wealthy. The mining operations that they had started together were now in the hands of
an efficient and honest business manager, so poor Carmen had nothing else to do but
travel around and enjoy herself. It was a carefully crafted story, designed to let would-be
murderers know that her disappearance would cause few ripples in the stream of life.
Dak listened sympathetically as she talked. “You look awfully young to be a widow,” he
said when she’d finished. “I didn’t know they’d set an age limit. Poor Carlos was buried
under a rockfall in one of our mines. His body was never recovered.” Yvette allowed
herself a languid sigh.
“I still find it hard to believe that someone as worldly and sophisticated as you could have
come from Purity. Pd always heard that they were . . . well. . . .
“Try, ‘stuffy,’ ‘provincial’ or `boring.’ Most fanatics are. I was raised that way myself, and
I still surprise myself with the traces every so often. Fortunately, money can teach you a
lot of things in a hurry-or at least buy you the teachers. Carlos and I decided we enjoyed
life too much to coop ourselves up with that Puritanical existence, so we left for Earth
seven years ago.” She sniffed. “Poor Carlos. To have died so young, without knowing so
many of the pleasures.
At this point the orchestra began to play. Dak invited her out onto the dance floor, and
Yvette accepted happily. Both of them, it turned out, were superb dancers, their bodies
melding into one smooth movement that swayed with the rhythm of the music. Yvette’s
body tingled as it pressed ever closer to Dak’s. This was certainly one charming man,
the sort a woman could easily fall in love with.
When the dance ended, Dak guided Yvette out of the ballroom and into the adjoining
chamber known as the Cosmos Room. This was an open room twenty meters across
with a domed ceiling that rose ten meters up over the heads of the people inside. The
room was kept permanently darkened while a kaleidoscope of pinpoint lights played
across the dome, giving it the appearance of a psychedelic planetarium. Occasionally the
magnified picture of a nebula or foreign galaxy would appear, swooping downwards onto
the populace like a descending hawk.
Ostensibly the Cosmos Room was designed for meditation on the vastness of the
Universe; in point of fact, it served to spur the development of shipboard liaisons that
were part of a starliner’s legendary appeal to romantics of both sexes.
Dak led Yvette to the hand railing along one wall and together they watched the light
show play across the dome for several minutes. It was Yvette who broke the silence.
“I’ve spent the entire evening so far talking about myself,” she said. “How about letting
me know a little bit about you? Who is this fascinating fellow named Dak Lehman?.
Her date was strangely silent for a long moment, which Yvette found quite
uncharacteristic. Dak was never pressed for an answer in conversation. Yvette was
about to comment jokingly on his hesitation when she felt a strange prickly sensation on
the back of her neck. Someone was watching her; her agent’s instinct was definite on
that point. Casually she shifted her body around so that she could look in the direction of
the stare without appearing to notice it. As her eyes peered through the darkness of the
room she could make out the shapes of two men. One was of normal height but slightly
portly, the other was tall and lanky. She couldn’t make out much else in this poor light,
but they were definitely watching her. That was all they seemed interested in for now, so
Yvette filed the information away in her mind for later evaluation and turned her attention
back to Dak. She kept checking the watchers every few minutes, though, to make sure
they weren’t up to something.
Dak had finally gotten around to answering her question. Yvette laid a hand gently over
his wrist as he spoke. “Oh, I’m not anybody too important, really. My father ran a small
voice writer manufacturing company on Largo. When I inherited it I expanded the
operation until we became the largest business machine company in that sector of
space. We’ve recently branched out still further into computers, and were doing
fantastically well there, too. I decided to get away from home for a while, before too
much success did me in. It can be pretty heady wine, but the social atmosphere was
getting rather stifling. I’m hoping Vesa will change that; I hear very few people ever win