CHAPTER 56
Humphries spent the morning making arrangements for his wedding. He had his legal department send a notice of Amanda’s divorce suit to Fuchs at Ceres. That ought to put the icing on his cake, he though delightedly. Maybe he’ll commit suicide once he gets the news and spare us all the trouble of putting him on trial. Then he decided to buy the Hotel Luna and refurbish it so it would look properly gleaming for his wedding. It won’t be a big affair, he thought, just a few dozen friends. And the most important of my business associates, of course. It’s got to be first-class all the way. What was that old word the English used, long ago? Posh. That’s it. I want this wedding to be small, intimate, and very posh.
Amanda will probably invite Pancho, he realized. So what? I wonder how much family she has back on Earth. I’ll bring them all up here. Why not? I’m going to shower her with so much kindness and luxury that she’ll fall in love with me whether she wants to or not.
By lunch time he was still grinning and whistling to himself. He ate at his desk, casually running down the past two days of activities reports. He stopped when he saw that Diane had authorized a high-energy flight to Ceres. The only passengers aboard the vessel were Ambrose and Dr. Cardenas. Why would she do that? he wondered.
And then he remembered, She went through the implantation procedure yesterday. And she still got up and ordered a special flight for those two rock rats?
His mood only slightly dimmed, he called Verwoerd on the phone.
“I’m going to take a stroll through the garden,” he said when her image appeared on the wallscreen. “Are you up to joining me?”
“I’m trying to catch up on what I missed yesterday,” she said guardedly.
“That can wait. A walk in the fresh air will be good for you.”
She hesitated a fraction of a second, then capitulated. With a nod, she said, “I’ll meet you at your front door.”
He expected that she would show some strain from the procedure she’d been through, but to Humphries’s eye Diane Verwoerd looked no different than before the implantation.
“The procedure went well?” he asked as they stepped along the brick path that wound through lushly thick bushes of coral pink oleanders and scarlet azaleas.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “The report should be on file.”
“I’ve seen the report,” he replied testily. “I want to know how you feel.”
“Oh,” said Verwoerd. “Concerned for the mother of your son?”
“That’s right.”
She stayed silent for a few steps, then said at last, “I’m fine. Mother and fetus in good condition.”
“Good.”
“By the way, let me offer my congratulations.”
He couldn’t help breaking into a smile. “About Amanda? Thank you.”
They passed a little bench of lunar stone. Verwoerd asked, “Now that you’ll be able to make a baby the old-fashioned way, do you still want me to go to term?”
“Of course I do,” he snapped. “That’s my son you’re talking about.”
“Your clone.”
“I wouldn’t have you abort him. I can have more than one child.”
“But this one,” she patted her stomach lightly, “carries your genes and nobody else’s.”
“Damned right.”
“He won’t be exactly like you, you know,” Verwoerd said, a teasing smile playing across her lips. “Genetically, he’ll be identical, but he’ll be affected by the enzymes of my body and—”
“I know all that,” Humphries interrupted.
“I’m sure you do.”
He glared at her. “You’re downright sassy today, aren’t you?”
“And why shouldn’t I be, Martin? I’m carrying your child. You’re going to reward me very handsomely for that, aren’t you?”
“If the boy is healthy when he’s born.”
“No, I don’t want to wait until then. I want my payoff now. I want a seat on the board of directors. I’ve earned it. And I’ll be a lot better at it than most of those fossils.”
Power, Humphries thought. She’s after power. Aloud, he asked, “Is that all?”
“I want money, too. I want a lot of money, Martin. I know you can afford it.”