The clockwork traitor, p.4
The Clockwork Traitor, page 4
All of them were taller and better dressed than be was. They sat or stood around in small clumps, obviously engaged in routine conversations except for one young man seated by himself in the corner. All of them stopped what they were doing as Jules entered so that they could size up his potential threat to their own chances of winning the Princess's favors. After one glance, it was obvious that most of them considered him no threat at all.
"Hi there," Jules beamed his standard, overly friendly greeting at them. "I'm John Dallum from Julea."
A tall, pleasant-looking chap came over and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Paul Symond from Lateesta." His grip was firm and decisive, his smile friendly, his voice warm. Jules decided right away that he liked this man.
"Come along," Symond continued. "I'll introduce you to the others." Then, having made himself Jules's unofficial escort, he led the SOTE agent around the room, naming the names that Jules already knew but had to pretend he didn't.
As they approached one tall, dark-haired man, Symond said, "This is Anton Ilyich Borov from the planet Kolokov. Anton, this is...."
"Yes, I know," said the Kolokovnik with a faint sneer. "'John Dallum from Julea,' wherever the hell that is. Yes, he made himself abundantly conspicuous on his arrival."
Jules knit his brow in puzzlement. "Did I do something to offend you, Gospodin Borov?"
"It's not what you've done, really, it's what you are. Here we all are, contestants for the hand of the next Empress of the Galaxy. We're supposed to be suave, courtly, gallant ... then you come in here and turn this whole thing into a joke."
"I'm sorry, Comrade, but we don't have much time to learn elegant manners on Julea-we're too busy trying to stay alive. A colony planet is a hard place for survival, and we've all got to work hard just to eat."
Borov looked as though he were struggling to hold down further nasty remarks and take a more diplomatic approach. After a moment he smiled and offered Jules his hand. "Please don't misunderstand me, Dallum; there's certainly nothing sinful about the way you earn your living. I'm sure you're a very nice fellow, and I didn't mean any of what I said as personal invective. If I've inadvertently insulted you, then please accept my deepest apologies. But you must realize that the Princess is used to certain standards at, the Imperial Court-standards which you, simply because you come from a colony planet, could hardly be expected to match. You just seem out of place here, and I question the wisdom of the Progress Committee in placing you with our group."
Jules shook hands with him, meanwhile eyeing the bigger man critically. Being from Kolokov, the planet where the time bomb conspiracy was supposedly hatched, Borov was the most likely suspect as the potential assassin, The SOTS agent tried to recall what the files had said about him. Borov was a champion chess player, president of a debating society and an amateur boxer and weightlifter. He came from a wealthy family; his mother ran one of the most influential financial consultant firms on Kolokov. Borov had seldom lost out on anything he'd ever wanted, and the computer personality profile did admit that he bad a tendency to be overbearing. That, and a short temper, were considered his main weak points, but he had still ranked above everyone else on his planet and so had been selected to join the Progress. Jules made up his mind that this was definitely a man to watch.
"Oh, don't mind him," Symond said, taking Jules's arm and leading him further around the room. Then, in a lower, more private, tone, he added, "I think Borov is a little too filled with his own self-importance for his own good. In fact, from what I hear, the Princess actually has a preference for the short, dark types. You may actually stand more of a chance than a tall, blond, blue-eyed lunk like me. Come on, the rest of the
guys aren't half that bad."
One by one, Jules was introduced to the rest of the candidates, and he had to agree that they were all an affable group of men; any of them would make admirable companions on a sports team or good company for sitting around and conversing about life and love. The atmosphere was definitely like a country club, a sociable setting for sociable people to get together and enjoy themselves.
The last man Symond introduced him to was Choyen Liu from the planet Anares. Liu was only slightly taller than Jules himself, though much slimmer and more delicate. His Oriental features made a nice contrast to the deep blue brocade of the robes he wore, the native dress of his home world. Anares had been settled three centuries before by a group of mystics and, with some modifications, the religious philosophies had remained to this very day. Anarians didn't travel much, and so remained largely a mystery to the outside Universe.
"Hi," Jules said upon being introduced to this strange man. He stuck out his hand to shake Liu's, and the Anarian took it with a grip so strong that Jules was genuinely surprised. It nearly crushed him to his superstrong bones, yet there was no sign of either animosity or strain on the man's face. Jules was tempted to squeeze back with his DesPlainian strength, which would be sure to shatter the other's hand, but then thought better of it; it would be out of character. So instead he pulled his hand away and gave a low whistle. "Wow, you sure do have some strong grip for such a frail-looking fella."
Liu looked straight into his face. "The Universe is filled with illusion, Gospodin Dallum. Which of us is ever really the person he appears to be?"
Jules stared at Liu. Through his mind raced the dozens of different--and sometimes contradictory--tales he'd heard about the mysterious Anarians and their even more mysterious powers of the mind. Was Liu telling him that he'd seen through Jules's disguise already? Could Liu be the assassin, playing word games to tease those around him? Could both of the questions be true? Or was Liu just playing the role of the Anarian mystic, making simple statements sound profound for theatrical effect?
There was no clue whatsoever in the other man's face. Those two dark eyes stared out at Jules impassively, without show of emotion. Whatever game Liu was playing, he was not about to tip his hand just yet.
Jules could not afford to tip his hand, either. He let John Dallum stare, amazed, at Liu for several seconds. "That sure is a deep thought," he said at last.
Liu bowed his head. "It's not original with me, I'm afraid. I'm just a humble scholar of philosophy."
"Say, I admire that. I've always wanted to be a philosopher myself, but I've always been too busy. We'll have to talk about it sometime."
"Indeed we will, Gospodin Dallum."
Jules walked away after Symond. "He's a strange one, isn't he?"
"Yes," Symond admitted. "None of us has been able to get particularly close to him. But he's a polite enough chap, if a little distant."
Jules was trying to recall what he knew about Liu from the files. Anares did not keep very thorough records of its citizens, and Liu's file had been the sparsest of the lot. But Jules knew that Liu's claim to being a humble philosophy student was a mistruth. At the age of only twenty-eight, Choyen Liu was an ordained priest and was recognized as one of the top philosophical mystics on the entire planet of Anares.
"Certainly an unusual bunch of people, aren't we?" Jules said to his guide, and he meant it. Each young man present was the best his planet could produce... and yet, Jules had to contend with the possibility that one of them was a potential assassin. "Yes, sir, a real unusual bunch."
The Princess and her party, including Yvette, arrived two days later. When the two women had met again they had greeted each other as long lost sisters, despite the fact that they had met once before, for a single evening a year earlier. But a close bond had been cemented then, and the two resumed their relationship as though there had been no gap at all. They had much to tell each other on the long trip from Earth to Ansegria, and they spent the time almost constantly in each other's company.
Yvonne and Jacques Roumenier met them at the spaceport, having arrived from DesPlaines several hours earlier. Yvette introduced this other brother-sister team of DesPlainian agents to the Princess; the Roumeniers were suitably awed, but Edna quickly put them at their ease. Vonnie and Jacques were given uniforms indicating they were members of the Princess's official bodyguards, and were introduced to the rest of Her Highness's staff. That bit of business over with, the entire party proceeded to Rockhold Castle.
This time, the Baron and Baroness were on hand to greet her personally. The castle was decked out with banners and pennons, and the Imperial flag flew above the banner of Cambria on the staff. Amid a flourish of trumpets, the Princess was led through the gate into the courtyard to meet her old friends, the rulers of Cambria.
Baron Piers Howell was a tall man in his late fifties. His face had aged with dignity, and no one could have imagined a more noble countenance. His hair was white, but his eyes held a spark of life that denied the years. His wife, the Baroness Ximena, was a petite woman several years his junior. She had an olive complexion and dark hair, and moved in quick, frenetic bursts of activity. She had a ready laugh and a charming manner that was legendary throughout the Sector.
This noble pair greeted the Princess warmly with kisses on the cheeks, then went on about the formal business of speech making. They said, in more words than it pays to recount, how pleased they were that she was honoring them with her presence and that they would do everything they could to make her stay enjoyable. Then the Princess, one lady-in-waiting (Yvette) and two bodyguards (Jacques and Yvonne), were escorted into the dining hall, while the rest of Her Highness's retinue busied themselves with transporting the Princess's numerous pieces of luggage into her prearranged quarters.
The candidates were already in the dining hall, and they naturally stood when the Imperial party entered the room. Yvette spotted her brother seated with the other candidates, but gave him no sign of recognition. Besides, she could tell that his eyes were busy elsewhere-Vonnie had entered the room, too.
It is much to the credit of those two young lovers that they did not show in their faces the emotions they felt in their hearts. They had not seen each other for several weeks and their longing to be together had grown considerably; but they knew that to betray those emotions would be to betray their mission for the Empire. So, with admirable willpower, they kept their eyes mostly to the fore, with only occasional glances in the other's direction.
Crown Princess Edna took her place at the head of the table, between the Baron and Baroness, but did not sit down immediately. Instead, she looked over the men assembled in front of her for a silent moment. Then she spoke.
"Dear friends, and those of you whom I hope to soon call friends. I know that this is a new and exciting experience for you, and that you may be a little nervous at meeting me. But I must point out that a Progress is no place for formality-it defeats the entire purpose. I will give you only two orders as your Princess. The first is that you are to treat me simply as Edna Stanley, a young lady about the same age as yourselves; the first one who calls me 'Your Imperial Highness' gets tossed in the pool by me personally." She paused to let that have effect. "The second order is enjoy yourselves. Now, lets eat, I'm starving."
Jules and Yvette risked an exchange of glances as they sat down to supper. The same thought was uppermost in both their minds. The Progress had now begun. For the next two weeks, they and they alone were responsible for the safety of the heiress to the Empire.
And somewhere, a time bomb could be ticking.
Chapter 4
Evekian the Arranger
When the Circus of the Galaxy arrived at a new planet, it was no small event. Duke Etienne had several advance men out taking care of prepublicity. Advertisements normally were in all the newsrolls and broadcast over all the television, radio, and sensible networks at least a week in advance of the arrival, telling about the wonders and the marvels to be seen in the Galaxy's Greatest Show.
On Kolokov, of course, there had been little time for such advance publicity because of the suddenness of the Duke's decision to go there. That suddenness was not suspect, however, for Duke Etienne had something of a reputation for doing the unexpected-usually, though not always, at the whim of the Service of the Empire.
But even with just a few spot announcements scattered here and there, the Circus still attracted the public's attention. It had not played on this planet for nearly twenty years, and its reputation as the Galaxy's premiere entertainment event ensured massive popular interest.
As usual, a crowd gathered at the spaceport just to watch the crews unload. The Circus traveled about in twelve enormous cargo ships that carried all their paraphernalia, and these ships squatted at one end of the spaceport field while the equipment was loaded onto trucks to be carried to the fairgrounds where they would actually perform.
The d'Alemberts could not entrust the loading and unloading of their specialized equipment to the hands of regular dock workers; consequently, they did it all themselves. Everyone, from the star performers down to the behind the-scenes work crews, pitched in and helped. But just because it was work did not mean it couldn't be fun as well.
The unloading was itself a show. The strongmen tossed enormous crates around as though they were loaded with feathers, making the onlookers gasp at their skills. The aerialists and acrobats bounced all over the scene, flying through the air with smaller boxes, arranging packages on the truck beds, fetching crates that appeared to be stored in places impossible for humans to reach without mechanical assistance. The clowns ran amok through the area, seeming to create endless chaos yet actually coordinating the whole event. The wild animals, when brought out in their cages, were suitably savage to chill and excite the most bored observer. There was music, noise, bright colors and chaos; yet despite all the apparent pandemonium, the unloading was done with unbelievable efficiency and in a minimum amount of time.
This performance was free to the thousands who thronged to the spaceport to watch it; but it was not wasted. For there was hardly a witness to it who did not then and there vow to go see the full Circus when it was finally set up and in operation. The unloading was just one more effective publicity stunt by the crafty Duke Etienne.
The actual setting up of the main tents and the midway was done in a more casual and relaxed manner since it was in the seclusion of the fairgrounds, where outsiders could be kept from seeing it until the Circus officially opened. Specialized crews took care of such details, while the performers rested up for their own tasks.
All was going smoothly in preparation for the show's opening the next day, but Etienne d'Alembert could not relax. Not only did he carry on his shoulders the massive responsibility of keeping all aspects of the Circus running without incident, but he also had the weightier task of coordinating the sub rosa activities for SOTS.
The Duke was a short man, as were most DesPlainians, standing but 160 centimeters tall. Though he himself had been a prime performer in his youth, he was inclining toward portliness more and more as middle age overtook him. His hair was thinning in front and graying at the temples, but his eyes normally had a humorous gleam to them. He looked so innocuous that he could have been mistaken for anyone's favorite uncle; but to evaluate him thusly would have been a grave error. For though his body was round, it was not soft and behind that cheerful facade lay a mind that, in matters of espionage and intelligence, was second-perhaps-only to that of the Head of SOTE himself.
At present the Duke was conferring with his brother Marcel, the Circus's magician-and Etienne's partner in many daring exploits in their younger days. Marcel was tall and thin for a d'Alembert-at 180 centimeters and eighty kilograms, he was virtually a DesPlainian beanpole. "We have no specific orders, then?" Marcel asked in the French-English patois that was the native language of DesPlaines.
"The Head left it entirely to our discretion," the Duke replied. "Our only instructions are to find out as much as possible about the bomb threat and to stop it at this end if we can. If not, we're to message Jules and Yvette on Ansegria so that they can take effective action there."
"And we have only one clue, this man called Winsted. So we must do some ferreting, n'est-ce pas?"
"Oui. I figured that the most logical approach was to check Winsted's roots, such as they were. He was, by occupation, closely associated with thieves of various sorts. This was not his native planet; he must have come here for some specific reason, probably related to the bomb threat. But that sort of man will seldom make a long journey just for one job, and I'm willing to bet he established contact with some other criminals just to `make the trip worth it," as it were.
"The local SOTE office furnished me with a list of some of the better known contact points for the higher-class members of the underworld-the kind Winsted would be associating with. By mentioning his name around often enough, we should evoke enough interest to learn something from the reaction. After all, most of the underworld doesn't even know that Winsted was picked up yet-just that he's missing."
"When do we start?" Marcel asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Ah, Marcel, always the eager one, eh? Well, it's possible we may get to see some action on this assignment, but not right now. There are others in our family who are equally qualified and who occasionally like a chance to have some of the fun. We mustn't be piggish about these things. "
"Then who is handling it?"
"I've put Luise in charge. She can use the experience, and I think she'll do quite nicely."
Luise deForrest was the daughter of Emil deForrest and Etienne's and Marcel's sister Margaret. She was not as obviously DesPlainian as many other members of the d'Alembert family, being relatively tall and slender, which was one of the reasons why the Duke bad chosen her for this assignment. At this early stage of the game there was no point to advertising the fact that DesPlainians were involved in this investigation-it would draw unwelcome suspicion onto the Circus.
