The Dark Lady Page 20

“If the death of heroic men were what she craved, surely she would be sated by now.”

  “Some people are never sated,” said Venzia.

  “I keep remembering her eyes, the sadness of her face, the sense of longing that she radiates,” I replied. “I cannot help feeling that she is searching for something, and that she has not yet found it.”

  “Searching? For what?”

  “I do not know,” I answered truthfully.

  We spoke for a few more minutes in a desultory fashion. Then Venzia went off to our compartment to sleep, and as I remained alone in the cabin, contemplating the Dark Lady, I found myself hoping that someday she would finally find what she sought, and that the ageless sorrow would at last vanish from her face.

  16.

  After we reached far London, I reported to the Claiborne Galleries, where Hector Rayburn informed me that Tai Chong had been arrested the previous weekend while participating in a nonviolent protest for alien rights on the nearby world of Kennicott VI. She had refused to pay bail, and was due to serve two more days before being released.

  “I offered to arrange for Claiborne to pay her bail,” he concluded, “but she wouldn't have any part of it. So there she sits, holding forth to anyone who will listen to her. I gather she even held a press conference from her cell!” He seemed vastly amused by her conduct.

  “I am very sorry to hear this, Friend Hector,” I said. “She must find confinement in Kennicott's prison very distressing.”

  “She's having the time of her life,” he said with a laugh. “Incidentally, don't I still owe you a lunch?”

  “It is only ten o'clock in the morning,” I pointed out.

  “You never heard of an early lunch?”

  “I appreciate your offer, Friend Hector, but I truly am not hungry.”

  He shrugged. “Well, it's an open invitation. Just give me a day's notice.”

  “I shall do so,” I promised.

  “The restaurant I told you about last time has closed,” he continued, “but I've heard of one that serves aliens. Maybe I'll check it out today and see if it's any good.”

  “That is very thoughtful of you, Friend Hector,” I replied.

  “By the way,” he added confidentially, “what's Valentine Heath really like?”

  “He is a very charming man,” I said. “Why?”

  “He's been unloading stolen paintings with us for years,” answered Rayburn. “I was just curious about him.”

  “Why do you accept the paintings if you know they're stolen?”

  “Hell, anything that's worth money has been stolen once or twice over the years. At least Heath's paintings are hard to trace.”

  “How long have you known that Heath trades in stolen artwork?”

  “I guessed it when I learned that he never put them up for public auction.”

  “Does Tai Chong know about it?” I asked, hoping that he would respond in the negative.

  “Officially, nobody knows about it,” answered Rayburn with a knowing smile, “and they would certainly deny all knowledge of it to the authorities if they were questioned.” He lowered his voice. “The only reason I'm even discussing it with you is because you're a colleague, and you happen to be on intimate terms with Valentine Heath.”

  “Knowing Valentine Heath does not make me a thief!” I protested.

  “Of course it doesn't,” said Rayburn soothingly. “But on the other hand, it doesn't make you as innocent as a newborn babe either, does it?”

  “I have never stolen anything, Friend Hector!”

  He smiled. “I'm not making any moral judgments, Leonardo.”

  “But you are,” I insisted. “You are saying that I have been corrupted by my association with Valentine Heath.”

  “Well, the police did contact Tai Chong about you when you left Charlemagne,” he said.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” I said. “I was not responsible for any wrongdoing.”

  “Okay,” he said, still smiling. “I believe you.”

  “I think that you do not.”

  “Look, I seem to have upset you, and I certainly didn't mean to. We were talking about Heath.”

  “We were talking about whether Tai Chong knew that the paintings Heath sold her were stolen,” I corrected him.

  “Would you rather that she didn't know and didn't stand on picket lines to get you people your rights?”

  “I was unaware that she had campaigned for Bjornn rights,” I said, grateful for the change in subject.

  “Bjornn, Canphorite, Rabolian— what's the difference? You guys are all fighting for equality, aren't you?”

  “The Bjornn do not fight,” I replied.

  “You know what I mean,” he said awkwardly.

  “Yes, Friend Hector,” I replied. “I know what you mean.”

  “Well,” he said, walking to the door, “I'm off. See you this afternoon.”

  “You must be anticipating a very large lunch,” I commented.

  He grinned. “And a little something to wash it down with.” He paused. “You're sure you don't want to come along? Five-hour lunch breaks aren't going to be so popular once Tai Chong gets back.”

  “No, thank you, Friend Hector.”

  He shrugged, waved to me, and walked out onto the street.

  Since I had been given no explicit assignment, and my two immediate superiors were unavailable, I spent the rest of the morning methodically going through the previous two weeks’ auction catalogs, hunting without success for any representations of the Dark Lady. In the afternoon I searched the listings of private offerings, with the same result.

  I was just about to leave the gallery for the night when Malcolm Abercrombie called me on the vidphone.

  “I heard you were back,” he said when the connection was completed and he could see my face.

  “I arrived this morning,” I responded.

  “Did you bring the Mallachi painting with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why the hell haven't you brought it out?” he demanded.

  “I was under the impression that you and Tai Chong had not yet negotiated a price for it,” I said.

  “So what? She'll try to rob me, I'll counteroffer, and we'll haggle for a few hours, but we all know I'm going to buy it in the end.”

  “I shall have to ask Tai Chong for guidance in this matter,” I said.

  “Your boss is cooling her heels in a Kennicott jail, in case you hadn't heard.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “Then you must also be aware of the fact that she isn't due out for a couple of more days,” continued Abercrombie. He glared at me. “I'm not prepared to wait that long. I want it now!”

  “I do not have the authority to give it to you,” I said apologetically. “In the absence of Tai Chong, that decision must be made by Hector Rayburn.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Will he be at the gallery tomorrow?”

  “Yes, he will.”

  “Get his permission the second he walks in the door,” said Abercrombie, “and then come directly over to my place with the painting. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. Abercrombie,” I said. “It is perfectly clear.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” he said ominously, and broke the connection.

  I went back to my room for the night, and, after getting Rayburn's consent, delivered the painting to Abercrombie the next morning as he had ordered.

  The next two days passed uneventfully as I continued searching unsuccessfully for representations of the Dark Lady.

  On the morning that Tai Chong was due to return, Heath stopped in at the gallery and sought me out.

  “Hello, Friend Valentine,” I said, looking up from my desk computer. “I trust you have been well.”

  He nodded. “And you?”

  “Quite well,” I said, wondering why he had come to the gallery.

  “Have you been in touch with Venzia since you landed?”

  “
I speak with him every night, Friend Valentine.”

  “Interesting man,” said Heath.

  “Yes, he is,” I agreed. “Is there something I can do for you, Friend Valentine?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” he replied, “I heard from my attorneys again last night. Most of the charges have been dropped, but my funds are still frozen.” He paused. “All my funds, not just those on Charlemagne.” He shook his head in wonderment. “They even found that account I had on Spica II.”

  “I regret that I cannot lend you any money, Friend Valentine,” I said. “But all of my salary is sent to the House of Crsthionn. Even my room and meals are billed to Claiborne, which deducts them before forwarding payment to my Pattern Mother.”

  “I don't want a loan,” said Heath irritably. “I need money, not favors.”

  “I do not understand,” I said, though of course I did.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?” he said. “I want you to help me beat Abercrombie's security system.”

  “I cannot help you, Friend Valentine,” I said. “Perhaps Reuben Venzia can find work for you.”

  “Heaths don't work,” he said disdainfully. “They spend.”

  “I am very sorry for you, Friend Valentine,” I replied, “but I cannot be a party to robbery.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends do not encourage friends to break the law,” I pointed out. “I will not allow my ethical code to be eroded by my association with you. The fact that I like you does not imply that I am willing to help you commit a crime against a man whom I dislike.”

  “Spare me your lectures,” said Heath with an expression of distaste.

  “Then allow me to make a practical observation, Friend Valentine,” I said. “Even if you were to rob Malcolm Abercrombie, you would still not have any money. You would have only his paintings.”

  “Which I would then convert into money.”

  “How? They are insured.”

  “Tai Chong has handled delicate problems like this for me in the past.”

  “Not with paintings that were stolen from her own clients,” I replied.

  “You'd be surprised.”

  “Possibly I would be,” I said unhappily. “But I will not help you.”

  He sighed. “All right, Leonardo. I'll just have to do it alone.”

  “You will be apprehended and incarcerated.”

  “Not necessarily. I've cracked tougher systems before.”

  “If you thought you could steal the paintings without my help, you wouldn't have asked me for it,” I said.

  “Your help would have made it much easier,” he said. “That doesn't mean it's impossible.” He paused. “The house itself shouldn't present too much of a problem; I've probably seen every safeguard he's got. But crossing the grounds will be difficult, since I'll be out in the open. It'll take me a few days to figure out a safe approach, and I'll have to plot an escape route, but it can be done.” He looked at me sharply. “But one question remains.”

  “What is that, Friend Valentine?”

  “If I pull it off, will you report me to the police?”

  “I would prefer that you did not make the attempt.”

  “I know what you prefer, Leonardo. Please answer my question.”

  “I truly do not know,” I said.

  Suddenly he smiled. “Cheer up,” he said. “If his security system's as good as you think, you may not have to make the decision.” He patted my shoulder. “I'll be in touch.”

  He turned and walked out before I could think of a reply, leaving me to contemplate the question he had asked. I was still lost in thought when Tai Chong entered.

  “Welcome back, Leonardo,” she said.

  “And to you, Great Lady,” I replied, getting to my feet. “I trust you are well?”

  “As well as can be expected,” she answered. “The cuisine and decor at the Kennicott jail leave a little something to be desired.” She paused. “Did I make the news on Far London?”

  “Hector Rayburn tells me that you did,” I said. “I returned only three days ago.”

  She smiled triumphantly. “I knew I would! Did they run my hologram?”

  “I do not know.”

  She shrugged. “No matter. At least we focused the public's attention on the plight of Kennicott's aliens.”

  “Have any reforms been made, Great Lady?” I inquired.

  She seemed surprised by the question. “I really don't know, Leonardo,” she said. “But I'm sure it's just a matter of time.” She smiled again. “But enough about me. Did Reuben Venzia find you?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And he gave you the package from your Pattern Mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I wouldn't have told him where you were, but I thought the package might be important.”

  “It was, Great Lady. I thank you for your concern.” I paused. “I should like to explain what actually happened on Charlemagne.”

  “It's not necessary. Your message was quite complete, and the problem has been dealt with to everyone's satisfaction.”

  “Not to Valentine Heath's, I am afraid.”

  “Is he on Far London?”

  “Yes, Great Lady. His assets are still frozen.”

  “That's too bad,” she said.

  “I fear that he is contemplating an illegal act to replenish his funds.”

  “Oh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you know what particular illegal act he has in mind?”

  “Robbery,” I said.

  “Money?”

  “Artwork, Great Lady.”

  She frowned. “On Far London?”

  “Yes, Great Lady.”

  “Stupid,” she muttered.

  “I agree,” I said. “Can you convince him not to do it?”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, Great Lady— but I saw him this morning, and he promised to contact me again in the near future.”

  “When he does, tell him that I want to talk to him.”

  “You will dissuade him?”

  “I'll do my best,” she said reassuringly.

  “Thank you, Great Lady,” I said. “I have become very fond of him. I would not like to see him incarcerated.”

  “Neither would I,” she said earnestly. She looked directly at me. “Has he actually seen Abercrombie's collection yet?”

  “How did you know he planned to rob Malcolm Abercrombie?” I asked, startled.

  She smiled. “I know Valentine's tastes.”

  “In artwork?”

  “In everything but artwork— and Mr. Abercrombie's collection is the only one on the planet valuable enough for him to indulge those tastes.” She walked to her office door, then turned to me. “You will tell him to get in touch with me first?”

  “First?” I repeated, puzzled.

  “Before he does anything he might regret.”

  “Yes, Great Lady,” I promised her.

  “Good. I hate to be rude, but I've got a lot of work to catch up

  on... ”

  “I understand,” I said. “I am glad that you are back, Great Lady.”

  “Thank you very much, Leonardo,” she said, and entered her office.

  I spent the remainder of the day in another fruitless search for paintings or holograms of the Dark Lady. On my way home I stopped at my usual restaurant and found Venzia waiting for me.

  “Any luck yet?” were his opening words.

  “No,” I responded. “And you, Friend Reuben?”

  He shook his head. “I must have gone through two thousand newstapes,” he said. “Not a sign of her. Tomorrow I start on the magazines.” He grimaced. “I hate to think of how many of them I've got to wade through.”

  “I have examined every brochure and catalog that we have received within the past two weeks,” I said. “None of them list any portraits of her for sale.”

  “Why only two weeks?” he asked.

  “Be
cause she was on Acheron less than three weeks ago,” I replied, “and while there is always a possibility that an older portrait of her might be offered for sale, your findings have convinced me that the artist will almost certainly be dead. We must find the man she met after vanishing from Friend Valentine's ship.”

  “If she's reappeared yet,” said Venzia glumly. “There have been periods where she's simply vanished for years, even centuries.”

  “Possibly,” I said. “But is it not also possible that she did not vanish, but rather that you have been unable as yet to determine her whereabouts during those periods?”

  “It's possible,” he admitted wearily. He yawned. “God, I'm tired! I think I'm going to take the rest of the night off.” He sighed deeply. “I've been spending twenty hours a day on those goddamned newstapes. If she's appeared again, I sure as hell don't know where.”

  “Rest well, Friend Reuben,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he replied. “Maybe we both ought to knock off for the night. You can't be feeling too fresh yourself.”

  “I think I shall go to the library,” I said. “I still have work to do.”

  “For Claiborne?” he asked.

  “No— for us. You have suggested a most interesting line of inquiry.”

  “I have?” he said, surprised.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I shall eat dinner here, and then I will pursue it.”

  “You'll let me know if you come up with anything promising?” he said.

  “Certainly, Friend Reuben,” I said.

  We parted, I ate a light meal, and then I walked to the library, trying to order my thoughts before speaking to the computer.

  17.

  I sat at my cubicle in the library, watching the computer come to life.

  “Good evening,” it said at last. “How may I help you?”

  “I am Leonardo of Benitarus II, and we have spoken before.”

  “I regret to inform you that I have found no other portraits of the subject you seek.”

  “I know,” I said. “I seek other information this evening.”

  An enormous list began scrolling on the screen. “I have been instructed by Reuben Venzia to inform you at such time as you came here that he has viewed these tapes and magazines without success.”

  “I am not interested in viewing tapes or other electronic media,” I said.