Eros Ascending: Book 1 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (16 page)

“I'm on your side.”

“I find that just a little hard to believe, Harry,” replied Rasputin. He lobbed the ball up to the wall again.

“It's true,” said Redwine, taking two quick steps to his left and hitting the ball back.

“Harry, you do to Vainmill companies what predators do to prey!” said Rasputin, taking a vigorous whack at the ball.

It came off the wall with surprising force and Redwine tried to hit it back with equal strength. He misjudged its height and yelled in pain and surprise an instant later as it caromed off the tips of his fingers.

“Are you all right?” asked Rasputin, walking over and looking at Redwine's hand. The fingers were already starting to change color.

“I'll be fine,” he grated. “But I think I've just retired from the ranks of the ship's handball players.”

“I can get you some ice,” offered Rasputin.

“I'm all right,” responded Redwine irritably, trying to shake some life back into the fingers.

“I guess I should have believed you when you said you hadn't played in a while.”

“It's my own fault,” said Redwine, finally spotting the security camera and staring straight at it. “I was trying to impress my audience.”

He leaned his back against a wall, then slid down until he was sitting on the floor, still tenderly massaging his fingers. “Well, let's get on with it,” he said.

“I'm still listening,” replied Rasputin, sitting down cross-legged a few feet away.

“Last night I had a long talk with the Madonna. I told her what my orders are, I gave her a way to check out my story and my actions, and I gave her enough information about my past to cause me a great deal of trouble should she decide at any time in the future that I'm trying to deceive you. That's why she's monitoring this conversation—so that she can confirm that I'm telling you the truth.”

“And just what
are
your orders?” persisted Rasputin.

“I've told your superior, and she's satisfied with my answers,” said Redwine. “That should be enough for you.”

“Harry, you've got to be kidding,” said the Security chief. “First of all, you're a proven liar and a demonstrable saboteur. Second, if I don't know how she's checking out what you do, I don't know whether you gave her the means to do it properly. And third—and I'm sorry, Madonna—I can't be sure of anyone's loyalty to the
Velvet Comet
except my own. Maybe you've bribed her; there's certainly enough money behind you to afford it. Maybe you've scared or threatened her off. Or maybe you've taken her into partnership.”

He looked up at the camera. “I apologize, Madonna, but it's my job to consider these things.”

“All right,” said Redwine wearily. “What do
you
think I'm doing?”

“Based on what I've learned about you, my guess is at you're tampering with the books to defraud the
Comet
.”

“Then why don't you report me?”

“Harry, I'd be reporting you to the guys who authorized you to
do
the tampering.”

“Look,” said Redwine. “If I allow Flaming Lorelei and your other accountants complete access to all the ship's financial records, dating back to its inception, will that satisfy you?”

“I don't know if it will satisfy me,” answered Rasputin, “but it'll make me a lot happier.”

“It's a deal,” said Redwine, absolutely confident that no one who didn't know exactly what they were looking for could uncover the minute, careful changes he had made. Lori and the rest would spend all their time on the two biggest-ticket items, the brothel and the casino, and he hadn't even begun working on them yet. They'd probably give up long before they got to the restaurants, the concessions, the fuel that powered the life support systems, all the unlikely places he had hidden the
Comet
's mythical losses. “They can audit
me
while I'm auditing
them
.”

“And will you turn over your card to me?” asked Rasputin.

“Not a chance,” said Redwine. “I have clearance to carry that card, and I intend to do so.”

“
That's
what troubles me,” admitted Rasputin.

“The card?”

“No. Your clearance.” He paused uneasily.

“Harry”—he looked toward the camera again—“Madonna—I like my job. I like working on the
Comet
and I'm very grateful to be working for Vainmill. They pay me well, they treat me well, and they've been very good to me. I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize my relationship with them.”

“Then just back off, and if you won't trust
me
, trust
her
.”

“I'd like to,” he said earnestly. “But this could still just be a test of Security, or of me.”

“It isn't.”

“Would you say otherwise if it was?” asked Rasputin with a smile. “Harry, you're a nice guy and I enjoy your company, but you're corrupt through and through. I can't take your word about anything.”

“Then take the Madonna's.”

He shook his head. “Corruption is like a disease; it tends to spread to everyone who comes into contact with it. I hope to hell the Madonna is telling the truth when she confirms your story, but I can't count on it.”

Redwine shrugged. “Then we're at an impasse. You want more details; I can't give them to you. I want you to believe me; you don't.” He paused. “What comes next?”

“I don't know,” admitted Rasputin. “But I'll go this far: I'll keep my doubts and my suspicions to myself until I know for sure that you're out to sabotage the
Comet
.”

“Fair enough,” said Redwine.

Rasputin got to his feet. “That's it, then?”

“Not quite,” replied Redwine, also rising.

“Oh?”

“You're right about one thing: there's a saboteur on board the
Comet
.”

“I assume you're referring to someone other than yourself ?” remarked Rasputin dryly.

Redwine nodded.

“I don't suppose you'd care to tell me who it is?”

“I don't know,” answered Redwine. “But
you
do.”

“Me?”

Redwine nodded. “Who told you that I knew Victor Bonhomme?”

Rasputin stared at him distrustfully. “That person is a saboteur?”

“A spy for the
Comet
's enemies, anyway.”

“What makes you think so?” asked Rasputin.

“Only a spy would know of my connection with Bonhomme.”

“Why?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Can the Madonna?” asked Rasputin.

“She can, but she won't.”

“Well, I'll keep it in mind, Harry.”

“You remember who it was?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me?”

Rasputin smiled. “I guess we all have our secrets, Harry.”

“Don't keep this one too long,” said Redwine seriously. “This person can cause all of us an awful lot of damage.”

“How much damage?”

“As long as I don't know who it is, I think my life will be in increasing danger.”

“Well, a guy who works at espionage ought to be used to that, Harry,” said the Security chief. “It goes with the territory.” He paused. “What other damage do you think this spy can do?”

“Put the
Comet
out of business,” said Redwine.

“I thought that was
your
department.”

“You thought wrong,”

“I hope you're right,” answered Rasputin seriously.

“Anything else?”

“No, I guess that's it.”

“Then let's go shower.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Redwine. He smiled at the camera. “No peeking. I'm not at my best in the light.”

They crossed the gym and entered the locker room. Redwine went directly to his locker, muttered his code, and the door opened. He reached in, fumbled around for his skeleton card, touched four small areas in order, and walked over to Rasputin.

“I've jammed the security for a minute,” he announced softly.

“Why?”

“Because I didn't want the Madonna to hear what I'm about to tell you.”

The Security chief stared intently at him. “And what is that?”

“That she's in as much danger as I am.”

“You're sure?”

Redwine nodded. “The longer I don't know who's keeping tabs on me, the worse it's going to get.”

“She's a fine woman, Harry,” said Rasputin. “If you're telling the truth, getting her involved in this was a shitty thing to do.”

“I couldn't help it,” said Redwine. “But that's why I don't want you to wait too long before giving me the name I need.”

“I've got to think about it,” said the Security chief, a troubled expression on his face.

“Think all you want,” said Redwine seriously. “Just remember this: I don't give a damn what happens to the
Comet
, and I don't give a damn what happens to me—but if any harm comes to the Madonna because you wouldn't tell me what I need to know, and I live through it, you're a dead man.”

He returned to his locker and reactivated the security systems.

“How's your hand?” asked Rasputin, aware that they were being monitored once again.

Redwine examined his swollen fingers. “Well, I probably won't perform any piano concertos for a few days.”

''You shouldn't let yourself get so far out of shape.”

“I was never
in
shape,” grimaced Redwine.

They slipped out of their clothes and dropped them off at the laundry tube on the way to the showers.

The Gemini Twins were leaving just as they entered.

“I'm going to have to work out and shower at the Resort's gym from now on,” remarked Redwine, staring after them. “I don't just feel fat and ugly around here, I feel like a whole different species.”

“I saw you with Suma the night before last,” grinned Rasputin. “
That'll
take weight off you!”

“Lock someone in a room with her and I'll bet he dies of old age within a week!” said Redwine devoutly.

“Let's hope so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lori told me this morning that she's Gamble's new instructor.”

“She? You mean Suma?”

“Right.”

“The poor son of a bitch. I have a feeling that she can be pretty demanding.”

“Maybe not. She's so busy she'll probably only get to work with him once or twice a week.”

Suddenly Redwine became aware of another presence, and turned to see a tall, statuesque black woman, her body moist and glistening, entering the shower area.

“Hi, guys,” she said pleasantly, as Redwine began edging behind the Security chief. “Anyone want to scrub my back?”

“What the hell,” said Rasputin with a smile and a shrug. “Why not?”

Redwine grabbed his arm as he started to walk over to her.

“Remember what I told you!” he whispered.

“Like I said—I'll have to think about it. As soon as I'm convinced you're telling the truth, I'll give you what you need to know.” Suddenly Rasputin grinned.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot more formidable with your clothes on?”

Redwine forced himself to laugh, waited until the Security chief was diligently scrubbing his companion, and left the shower. He dried himself off, dressed quickly, and was soon back at work in his office.

He knocked off in early afternoon and returned to his rooms, only to find that they had been emptied out. He then took the elevator up to the public room level and made his way to the Madonna's office.

She was sitting in her metal lounge chair, reading the
Inferno
. When she heard him enter she looked up and smiled.

“I've sent Adonis back to the Home,” she said. “He was heartbroken.”

“Better him than me,” replied Redwine, returning her smile.

“How's your hand?” she asked.

“I don't think we'll have to amputate. You saw the whole thing?”

“You're a good liar, Harry, but you're an absolutely terrible handball player.”

“Did I handle Rasputin okay?”

She nodded. “You did fine.”

He saw that the chess table was still empty.

“That wooden box I had in the suite last night—where is it?”

“In my bedroom, along with your other things,” answered the Madonna. She paused. “Sit down, Harry. I've got a question to ask you.”

He walked over to one of the sofas that flanked her computer/table. “Just how long a question is it?” he asked lightly.

“That depends on your answer. This morning you told Rasputin that your life might be in danger. Last night you assured me that it wasn't.” She stared directly at him. “Which of us were you lying to?”

“I never denied that the course of action we've chosen is more dangerous than cutting and running,” he replied seriously. “I told you last night that I thought I could keep it under control. I still think so.” He paused. “But the danger is there. I won't deny it.”

“And you think it will come from the plant?” she persisted.

“Directly?” He shook his head. “I doubt it. But the plant has got to be acting as a conduit. He can precipitate the danger based on what he reports. I think I can hide what we're doing—but I'll be honest: I'd feel a lot better about it if I knew who was keeping tabs on me.”

“Are you sure he's keeping tabs on
you
?” she asked. “Couldn't he be here on another assignment?”

“Not a chance. He knows about Victor and me.”

“And before long he'll know about you and
me
,” she added thoughtfully.

“It won't matter,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “He'll never know what I'm planning to do to the books. And besides, aren't prostitutes supposed to sleep with patrons?”

“You're not a patron, Harry. He'll know.”

“He'll know we've set up housekeeping together, and that's
all
he'll know. Probably he'll think I'm doing it to gain your confidence.”

“Are you?”

“If you believe that, I'm sure as hell not succeeding, am I?” he asked in pained tones.

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Harry, but there are questions I have to ask.” She paused.

“How much danger am
I
in?”

“More than if you change your mind and decide to leave the ship with me,” he said. “Less than me if we stay here.” He exhaled deeply. “The danger's not going to come now. It's going to come when we revert the books and expose what's been going on.

Hopefully I'll have found a couple of protectors on the Vainmill board of directors by then—and even if I haven't, I still think I can cover our tracks. The one thing they'll never figure is that I'm willing not just to cut down my own employer but to take a fall myself.”