Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Read online

  “Not a chance,” said Crane. “He doesn't even think there is a murder charge against him.”

  “We could set him straight on the matter.”

  “It wouldn't make a bit of difference,” said Crane. “You're not dealing with a rational man here.”

  “He seems rational enough to me.”

  “Not on the subject of Bello. He's fighting a holy war, and he's got the religious fervor of a fanatic. Don't forget: he's not just some hit man hired by an impersonal organization. Bello killed his wife and daughters. He's spent more than a decade trying to track him down.” Crane paused. “From his point of view, he's showing remarkable restraint by giving me until midnight to get Bello peacefully.”

  “As I said, he's much more of a threat to the Comet's security than Bello,” noted the Dragon Lady. “He's killed once, and he's quite willing to kill again. All Bello wants to do is escape.”

  “I agree,” said the Black Pearl. “Pagliacci is our immediate problem, not Bello.”

  Crane checked his chronometer.

  “You've got a little over two hours to solve that particular problem before he goes into action.”

  “What can he do, really?” asked the Dragon Lady.

  “I can put 20 guards around the Black Pearl's office.”

  “I don't know exactly what his capabilities are,” admitted Crane. “But that's a pretty wide corridor, with no place to hide. He can probably mow half of them down before they know what hit them.”

  “I can post them inside the office,” suggested the Dragon Lady.

  “No!” snapped the Black Pearl. “How can we keep news of Bello's presence a secret if 20 security guards are rubbing shoulders with him?”

  “Look,” said Crane. “There's no question that you'll be able to stop him. He may be good, but he's not that good. I'm just operating on the assumption than none of our careers will benefit from a bloodbath.”

  “Correct,” said the Black Pearl.

  “Tell me, Mr. Crane,” said the Dragon Lady. “If you were Pagliacci, how would you plan to extricate Bello from the Black Pearl's office?”

  “I wouldn't.”

  “That was a serious question, Mr. Crane.”

  “I'm giving you a serious answer,” replied the detective.

  “You've got to remember that while Pagliacci is willing to sacrifice his own life, he's not willing to kill Bello. He wants him to stand trial with all the attendant publicity that will ensue. Now if I were Pagliacci, I'd figure that the likelihood of reaching Bello at all is pretty small, and the likelihood of taking him alive is almost nil. So I'd threaten to break in, just to make you concentrate your effort there, and then I'd find a very public place where you couldn't grab me immediately, wait until it was packed with patrons, and then tell them that Bello is aboard the ship and that the madam is protecting him. Sooner or later someone would believe me, and the moment that happened, you'd have to turn him over, if not to me then to the authorities on Deluros VIII.”

  The Dragon Lady stared unhappily at him.

  “'You know, it makes sense,” she said grimly.

  “I reluctantly agree,” said the Black Pearl. She turned to Crane. “Is he capable of thinking that clearly?”

  “I don't know,” admitted Crane honestly. “He's not stupid—but he is fanatical on the subject of Bello, and I don't know how much that colors his judgment.”

  “Well, those seem to be our two most likely scenarios,” said the Dragon Lady with a sigh. “Either he makes Bello's presence a matter of common knowledge to our patrons, or else a number of people—possibly including some patrons—have to die to prevent it.”

  “There's a third scenario,” Crane reminded them. “Turn Bello over to me right now.”

  The Black Pearl shook her head. “Even if I did that it wouldn't stop Pagliacci from talking. He's the problem, not Bello. He's the one we have to stop.”

  “That's why I called this little meeting,” said Crane. “To warn you that he's got the bit between his teeth.”

  “That's not enough,” said the Black Pearl.

  “What more do you expect me to do?” said Crane caustically. “Kill him and let Bello go?”

  “There are worse ideas,” said the Dragon Lady, walking over to the bar and pouring herself a creme de cacao.

  Crane laughed derisively. “I haven't heard any.”

  “Mr. Crane,” continued the Dragon Lady, “I think it's about time that you stopped and reassessed your position. Luring Bello up here may have been a good idea in the beginning, but the situation has gotten out of control. The one thing Vainmill has in common with all governments and major corporations is that it abhors scandals—and it is no longer possible for you to arrest him without causing one. Whether he talks or Pagliacci talks, word is going to get out you allowed one the freedom of the ship and enticed the other to come aboard. I submit to you that this not really the way to advance your career or your reputation. They pay you to control damage, not cause it. I think capturing Bello aboard the Comet will make them very unhappy with you.”

  He stared at her thoughtfully, but made no reply.

  “She's right, you know,” said the Black Pearl. “You were sent up here to solve a relatively simple problem, and instead you've managed to create truly complex one. You probably couldn't have foreseen the consequences when you started on this course of action, but now that they're in clearer focus, you'll bear the brunt of the blame if you refuse to help resolve the problem.”

  He was silent a moment longer, stroking his chin with his right forefinger.

  “I can't just let him walk,” he said at last. “I mean, hell, he's Quintus Bello!”

  “As I find myself pointing out with monotone regularity, Pagliacci is our immediate problem, not Bello,” said the Black Pearl.

  “All right,” said Crane warily. “Let's say that I go along with you. Suppose I—ah—neutralize Pagliacci,” he continued, aware that his words were going into Cupid's Priority File. “What then?”

  “Then we've bought ourselves some breathing room,” replied the Black Pearl.

  “Don't play dumb with me!” he snapped. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “You still can't arrest him aboard the ship.”

  “I know,” said Crane. “The Dragon Lady has just convinced me of that. But what about off the ship?”

  “It's an interesting notion,” said the Black Pearl.

  “How would you arrange it?”

  “Link Cupid to his escape ship's computer so I can pinpoint where he lands.”

  “I think I can live with that,” said the Black Pearl.

  “How about you?” Crane asked the Dragon Lady.

  “I have my doubts.” She poured herself another glass of liqueur and returned to her chair with it.

  “A kangaroo court is a lot better than having Pagliacci kill him,” Crane pointed out.

  “It's not that,” she replied. “I will certainly sacrifice Mr. Bello's right to a fair trial in exchange for the Comet's security.”

  “Then what's the problem?”

  “What's to stop him from talking?” asked the Dragon Lady.

  “Let him talk from now til doomsday,” replied Crane. “Passing through the Comet on his escape route is a hell of a lot different from being captured there while the madam is defending him. Besides, he'll have no reason to go into it in detail; he's got quite enough enemies so that I won't have to take the stand against him.”

  “Well,” said the Dragon Lady with a shrug, “it looks like the best deal we can make.”

  “I know,” he agreed glumly. “I was a lot happier when I didn't think I had to make it.”

  “You've got about two hours in which to solve our problem,” noted the Black Pearl.

  “I'm aware of that,” replied Crane, getting to his feet.

  “Have you any idea how you plan to go about it?”

  “If I do, my mother didn't raise any children stupid enough to tell you about it while Cupid is capturing
this whole conversation for posterity.”

  “How will we know that the situation has been alleviated?”

  Crane walked to the door.

  “You'll know,” he promised.

  Chapter 16

  “Cupid?”

  YES?

  “Patch me in to the ship's intercom system.”

  WORKING ... DONE.

  “All right. I want to send a message to every section of the ship, except those rooms where people are actively copulating at this moment. How do I go about it?”

  TELL ME WHEN YOU'RE READY TO BEGIN AND I WILL ACTIVATE THE INTERCOM SPEAKERS.

  “Now.”

  READY.

  Crane cleared his throat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “The Velvet Comet invites you to come, as our guests, to Pagliacci's final nightclub performance at 0030 hours this morning That's half an hour after midnight. Let's give our favorite comedian a rousing sendoff!”

  IS THAT ALL?

  “Yes.”

  DEACTIVATING INTERCOM ... DONE.

  “Thanks,” said Crane. “Now open my door.”

  The door to his suite slid into the wall, and, when he made no effort to walk out into the corridor, slid shut again.

  “No. Leave it open.”

  The door slid open.

  “Okay. You might as well show me the sports headlines while I'm waiting.”

  Crane sat down in his contour chair, hands clasped behind his head, and spent the next half hour catching up on the latest scores, as an occasional prostitute or patron stopped to look into his suite while walking down the corridor.

  Finally one figure stopped in the doorway and didn't move on.

  “Hi, Andy. What's all this bullshit about a final performance?”

  “Come on in,” said Crane, turning to face him.

  As the comedian entered the living room, Crane ordered the door to close.

  “So what's up?” asked Pagliacci.

  “I didn't know how else to reach you,” replied Crane. “I had to get a message to you that you don't have to go to war at midnight; this seemed to be the easiest way.”

  “What kind of deal have you cut?”

  “They'll turn Bello over to us tomorrow morning at 0800 hours.”

  “That was awfully easy,” said Pagliacci warily. “What did you have to promise them?”

  “That's my business,” said Crane. “The only thing that should concern you is that we've got him.”

  “I hope so,” said Pagliacci. “Because if I find out you're lying to me, I could become very upset with you.” He paused. “You wouldn't like me when I'm upset.”

  “I've seen you when you're telling jokes,” remarked Crane dryly. “How much worse can you get?”

  Pagliacci threw back his head and laughed. “I knew we were going to get along the first time I met you, Andy!” His laughter ended as quickly as it had begun. “Where do we pick him up?”

  “The airlock.”

  “I don't like it,” said the comedian. “Too easy for him to make a break for it. Fix it for us to get him at the Black Pearl's office.”

  “I'll do what I can,” said Crane.

  “When and where should you and I meet?”

  “How about 0630 hours in the reception foyer?” suggested the detective.

  “Sounds good to me,” agreed Pagliacci. He walked to the door. “Well, I gotta run. You seem to have obligated me to a final performance.”

  “You could always skip it,” said Crane with feigned nonchalance.

  Pagliacci shook his head. “No sense doing anything that might attract attention. Why don't you come by and catch the show? Maybe I'll finally find a way to make you laugh.”

  “Maybe I will,” said Crane, as Pagliacci walked out into the corridor.

  Crane gave Pagliacci half an hour to get firmly ensconced in his dressing room, then made his way to the nightclub. He went immediately to the backstage area, scrounged through the prop room until he found what he was after, and shortly thereafter locked himself inside an empty dressing room. Once there, he pulled his pistol out of his pocket, placed it on a table next to the prop, removed a silencer from another pocket, and went to work.

  When he was finished, he walked over to the vanity and began carefully applying white greasepaint to his face. It took about fifteen minutes, after which he used some bright red lipstick on his lips and black grease pencil around his eyes. Finally he scrutinized his face in the mirror for a moment and then, satisfied, he leaned back on his chair and relaxed.

  The show started half an hour later, and once the house lights dimmed, Crane walked back out into the audience. He checked the room, saw the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady seated at a table toward the back, and quickly walked over to join them.

  “Mr. Crane?” asked the Dragon Lady, after staring at him for a minute.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said. “I trust you told the stage manager that Pagliacci will be making an appearance.”

  “You told me to, didn't you?” said the Black Pearl.

  “By the way, what's with the make-up? Surely you're not going to impersonate him.”

  “I'm not that untalented,” he replied with a smile.

  “All of this does have something to do with our little arrangement, doesn't it?” demanded the madam.

  “Something,” he agreed. “I hope you're going to be a good audience and laugh on cue.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “You will,” he said. “Just remember to laugh.”

  He turned and faced the stage as Pagliacci stepped out from behind the curtains. The comedian launched into a discourse about his misadventures in the stock market, segued into his private detective routine, and was soon hard at work building a series of sexual puns that drew groans and laughter in equal proportions.

  Finally he wound up talking about his visit to a psychiatrist.

  “So,” he said, “my shrink looks at my charts, and says, ‘Based on my examination, I have come to the conclusion that you're crazy.’ Well, this kind of pisses me off, so I tell him that I want a second opinion.

  'Okay,’ he says; ‘you're ugly, too.'”

  “That's terrible!” shouted Crane above the audience noise.

  Pagliacci peered into the darkened room, but was unable to spot the source of the heckling.

  He told another joke, and Crane got to his feet.

  “Come on, Pagliacci!” he yelled. “The last time I saw a face like yours it had a fish hook in its mouth.”

  A couple of nearby patrons tried to shush him, then noticed his make-up and assumed that he must be a part of the act.

  Pagliacci finally pinpointed the area the heckling was coming from.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, pointing in Crane's direction, “let me present a mathematical paradox: three heels in one pair of shoes.”

  Suddenly Crane raced to the stage and clambered up onto it.

  “Who the hell are you?” demanded the comedian.

  Crane ignored him and pulled out his pistol.

  “I can't stand it anymore!” he screamed, mugging at the audience. “If I hear one more bad joke, I'll go crazy!”

  He touched a button on the weapon's handle, and a small banner with the word BANG emblazoned on it flew down from the barrel.

  Suddenly the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady shrieked with laughter, and a moment later the whole audience followed suit. As the laughter built to a crescendo, Crane pulled the trigger on his weapon.

  Pagliacci's hands flew up over his head and he spun around, a look of total astonishment on his face.

  He tried to say something, but couldn't seem to get the words out. Crane leaped across the stage, caught him just before he fell into the audience, and slung him over one shoulder. The crowd applauded with delight.

  “Pagliacci thanks you for your response, and invites you to see his all-new act, starting next month on Lodin XI,” he announced, bowing as low as he could without dropping the body,
then parting the curtains and walking backstage before the blood from the tiny hole in the comedian's chest had spread enough to become visible.

  He carried the corpse to his dressing room, activated his Priority File, laid the body on a table, and began washing off his make-up. The door opened a moment later, and he could hear the voice of the headlining singer for an instant as the Black Pearl and the Dragon Lady stepped through.

  “Is he dead?” asked the Black Pearl.

  “Of course he's dead,” replied Crane.

  “Nice and neat.”

  “Not so neat,” he said irritably, displaying his blood-spattered tunic. “The son of a bitch ruined my outfit.”

  “I'm sure you can afford a new one,” remarked the Black Pearl dryly.

  “In the meantime,” said the Dragon Lady, “the audience is still talking about what a unique exit Pagliacci made.” She shook her head in amazement. “You'd think somebody out there would know that they had just witnessed a murder!”

  “Why?” said Crane. “The nightclub's just like the rest of the Comet.”

  “I don't think I follow you.”

  “They come here to watch people in masks act out a bunch of fantasies. Why should shooting Pagliacci be any more real than anything else that happens up here?”

  “That's why you chose to eliminate him in the nightclub?” asked the Black Pearl.

  He nodded. “Any place with a crowd would have done as well. The more people who saw it, the less chance there was that anyone would believe it. It just happened to be easier to lure him to the club than anywhere else.” He paused. “I could have shot him in my suite, I suppose, but it would be a hell of a lot harder to explain. I'd have had to hide it in the Priority File, and sooner or later someone would open it up and you'd have a whole new can of worms to deal with. This way we've got 300 witnesses who will swear he was smiling and waving to them the last time they saw him, and I'll swear to Vainmill that I arrested him and had to shoot him when he attempted to escape.”

  “I still can't believe we got through it that easily,” said the Black Pearl. She sighed. “All we have to do now is get Bello off the ship and we're done.”

  “What will you do with the body?” asked the Dragon Lady.