Pohlstars (10 page)

He roared obscenities into the microphone, and finished with threats, but she cut him off. "It's too late, she said. "Look to your starboard! He did. I did, too- we all did.

And wished we had not.

I had never seen a mininuke at work before. The oatyboat next to us in the grazing comb was a sister ship to our own. Two million tons, and most of ten thousand people aboard. You would not think to look at that vast, slow juggernaut that anything could halt it, or even slow it down, much less do it harm-you might as well try to sink Gibraltar! But a hundred-K nuke into its engine room was too much weapon for even an oaty-boat.

It was God's grace for us that the explosion was inside the hull, for we were spared our eyes. Even the secondhand radiation that bounced off the water and made a bright haze of the smoggy air blinded me, and the concussion shook our boat. When the wave came. it swamped Dougies floatilla and drowned hundreds of his thugs, but then it was over. The only real change was that our sister boat was not there anymore. All that remained of it was a glowing, rising cloud of steam.

Dougie did not know when to give up. He actually thought, I believe, that his hired killers would be loyal to their pay. When he tried to get them to attack Betsy's boat as planned, no matter that the same torpedo tubes that had just disintegrated one oaty-boat were now trained on ours, the mercenaries did what mercenaries do best- changed sides-and told him they were arresting him. He would not submit. That didn't help; they only killed him instead.

The Russians and the Japanese ranted and raved, but what could they do? There was no law left on the sea. And no peace, either. When Betsy came aboard again, it was as a conqueror, with twenty armed hoodlums at her back, and she demanded that May sign over every vessel in the Fleet to her.

My May was poised and lovely, but very pale. She looked at me for strength but, chained and gagged in a chair, I had none to give her. "The world will not condone piracy! she cried, but Betsy only grinned.

"The world, she said, "has troubles of its own, and besides, who would lift a finger to help a murderess?

I groaned and struggled, for I could guess what was coming. May could not. It was her greatest weakness, that she could never gauge what evil really was. "You murdered your husband, Betsy announced. "The second one, anyhow-I don't know about the others! May didn't bother to tell her she was lying; she only waited to hear what form the lie would take. But it wasn't all lie. For Betsy said, "I have a confession from the oiler who helped Dougie d'Agasto murder Jeff, and proof that it's true. And the confession says that you were as guilty as Dougie. Planned it together - she grinned -"for everyone knows that you and Dougie were lovers long before you killed Jeff to get him out of the way!

And all I could do was groan.

Later, when the papers were signed and May was taken away, Betsy got around to me. "Well, she said when the gag was out of my mouth, "what shall we do with you, old man?

"Whatever you want to, I said. "But you know May was no part of that murder! You have no evidence that will stand one second in court!

"But the only court there is, old Jay, is me. No land court will try her. She'll never be on land again, you see, because I'm going to keep her near me as long as she lives.

"Treat her kindly at least, I begged, abject at last.

"Why not? In fact, she said, in high good humor, "I'll let you be her jailer, old man-providing we can make an agreement on what your other duties are! And then you can treat her as kindly as you like.

And so all the years of peace were over, forever.

Thrice widowed was wasted her beauty fair. Her son, no son, was her only heir. Her sister, no sister, pent her there, In a cage on the grazing isles.

I did it for a year, and three months, and a week, and how I did it that long I do not now know. Then I went to Betsy. "You'll have to wait, said her butler. "Miss Zoll is engaged just now.

"I'll wait, I said, and I did, for an hour and more in her "morning room. It was a bright and cheery place, high over the foredeck and its gardens. May had no gardens. May had four comfortable rooms all to herself, and whatever she liked to eat and all the video disks and books she asked for, but except for me and the servants she had them all to herself. Three visitors were allowed. I was one. Betsy was another, but she had the grace never to go there, and the third, who would have been the most welcome of all but never came, was Jimmy Rex. Betsy had designed May's jail herself. It had bright, large windows, but they looked on nothing but the sea. It had one door, and there was an armed guard outside it always. At a push of a button the door would lock and steel shutters would slam across the windows, but there was never any need for the button. There was nowhere for May to go.

So I waited the time in Betsy's morning room as patiently as I could, and then she emerged in a robe, drowsily yawning and stretching, absently petting the hairy shoulder of the scoutship pilot who was her favorite of the moment. "Well, old man? What do you want now? Isn't May happy in her home? Would she like a little trip to relieve the monotony-say, a week or two in Miami with her drug pushers and arms runners'?

I would not let her anger me. "I've come to sell you my stock, I said.

She frowned at me in silence for a moment. Then she slapped the pilot's rump and pointed to the door. When he was gone, she said, "What's the trick, Jay? There was no feeling to her voice at all. It might have been a machine talking, with a machine's requirement for more data on which to base the emotionless, compassionless decision of a machine. I felt myself chilled.

"I don't like what you do, I said. "I can't stop you, but I don't have to be an accomplice.

She rubbed thoughtfully at her lips, which were bruised and swollen, and then clapped her hands. At once her maid appeared in the door, peering through with an armed guard looking alertly over her shoulder. Betsy gestured drinking from a cup of coffee, and the maid produced a service for her at once. "You're not lying to me, I think, she said then. "but there's some kind of truth you're not telling me. What do you want to do with the money'?

"Go away.

"Leave your precious May?

I kept my voice steady. "I have to get out of here for a while, Betsy. I'll come back later and go on being a prison guard, but I need some time off. And I need to plan for my future. She looked unconvinced. I said the rest of it: "You're' the tyrant here, Betsy. It has pleased you let May live, but some day you'll be drunk, or doped, or in a rage at whoever is sharing your bed that day. And you'll take it out on her. When I can't help May anymore, I want to see what I can do for me.

She sipped the coffee, studying me over the lip of the cup, and then shrugged. "I'll accommodate you, Jay. I'll give you ten million dollars for your stock.

When I had turned down fifty! "Twenty-five, I bargained, and she shook her head and said:

"Nine.

And nine it was.

May could see at once that I had something to tell her, but she played the hostess and asked after my health and inquired wistfully after Jimmy Rex. She let me come to it in my own time. So, with a glass of wine in my hand, I said, "I'm going to New Zealand for a bit.

"Oh?

"Just for a while, May. A few weeks maybe. Then I'll be back, I promise.

"Of course you will, Jay, dear. But you're absolutely right. You should get out of this for a while. And New Zealand's a lovely place-I remember, the skiing is first- rate! And then, her eyes longingly on the open window and the emptiness beyond it, she said in a tone that wanted to be light, "I'd love to be there again. I couldn't do Betsy any harm there. She knew that every word was heard as well as I did, and I suppose she was talking to Betsy as much as to me, though she knew how little good that would do. "I would give my word not to, she said, "and I've never broken it.

I left her before the tears began to trickle down my cheek. I knew that May's word was good. I also knew that Betsy, the mother of lies, would never believe it.

And, oh! my Mary, oh Mary, my May, Blest was the hope and accursed the day, Curst was the day when I brought you away, Away from the grazing isles.

New Zealand was not an idle choice. It had three things going for it. First, it was lightly populated and far from rest of the miserable landlocked world. Second, their geothermal springs made them poor customers for the Fleet, and so less likely to want to keep in Betsy's good graces. Third, I had a friend there.

Betsy's eyes did not stop at the hull of the oaty-boat. So on the first day in Auckland I visited six different banks to talk about investing my nine million dollars. On the second day I toured the sheeplands by air, on the pretext of buying a ranch, and that night I allowed myself to have two or three more drinks than usual in the guests' lounge at the little hotel. To anyone who would listen I explained what a vindictive bitch Betsy Zoll was, and how I had at last given up hope that my sweet May would ever be free again. I did not know which of the ranchers or barmen or guests would be passing the word on to Betsy, but I had no doubt she would know everything I said.

And on the third day I went to visit an offshore oatie and there, in the low-pressure turbine room, I met Sam Abramowitz, as we had arranged on the first. "No one can hear us here, he said over the hiss and groan of the generators. "What do you want me to do? And then, when I told him, "You're insane!

I agreed that it was an insane world all over. "Still, I said, "what I need is a scout vessel with a pilot, and an aircraft willing to take the chance of being fired on, for a million dollars.

He pursed his lips. He didn't answer at first, but turned and gazed around the booming, gasping turbine room as though he were suddenly less sure that we couldn't be spied on. Then he said, "I couldn't set it up overnight, you know.

"I don't want it overnight, Sam. I want some time to pass, so Betsy will relax a little. At least a month. Six would be better. Just send me a message when you've got it set up-something about investing in a new sheep- shearing machine, maybe-and the pilot must wear something I'll recognize, so I'll know he's there.

He shook his head slowly, not to refuse, only to say it was an outlandish idea. "A million dollars, did you say? It may cost more.

"I've got more, I said. He sighed. It meant yes. I reached out and grasped his hand in both of mine. "You're a good friend, Sam. It's not just for me, you know. It's for the finest lady who ever drew breath.

He looked away and didn't answer. There was a strain in the set of his jaw that I didn't understand and didn't much like. But the important thing was that he had agreed. Then and there I wrote a power of attorney for him, to draw what he liked and spend as he chose. If there was nothing left of the nine million when he was done, well, then I would be a penniless old man. But I would be free, and so would May.

And so should May have been, for it was a good plan and Sam Abramowitz a better friend than I deserved. He was also careful and cunning. When at last the signal came and the scoutship showed up, it was from one of the new Argentinian boats, and the pilot came to Betsy with a fine, false tale of locating unsuspected patches of deep cold that he was willing to sell for a price. And the pilot wore the green scarf that identified him. I could not talk to him, for he was closeted with Betsy, driving his bargain and delivering his goods, but I went down to the sternways and studied the vessel with care. A scoutship has no more beauty of line than an egg. Speed is not important, nor looks. What is important is the strength of hull to withstand whatever pressures it may encounter as it dives deep and sends its probes deeper still to measure the bottom water. It looked solid. Once in it and well away, we had our chance. It would be a run for the bottom to hide under the thermoclines and the scuttering layers, and then away, well out of reach of any of Betsy's eyes or guns. We had range enough to make it to Australia or Hawaii or Japan, or anywhere between. I had settled on Manila. Of all destinations that was the most dangerous for us, since the islands were small and sea visitors frequent, but therefore the one where Betsy would be least likely to look while we did what we had to do to change our appearance and find our way to a new home.

All that was needed was the aircraft.

And so, as soon as it was dark, I went down to May's room. She was sewing as interminably she did, pausing to read for a while and then to return to the needle. "It's a hot night, I said, stepping to the port and gazing at the warm sea, twenty meters below. By leaning out and craning my neck I could see the scoutboat moored to the sternways, just past the gate in the mesh. There was a man in a long green scarf where he was supposed to be. He was paying for the fuel he had bought, and his orders were to stall until the aircraft arrived.

Which would not be long.

I said, ~ I wish we could go for a swim. May gave me a sharp glance. "Look, I said, catching her hand and drawing her to the port. "It's not much of a dive. And on a night like this we could swim to Hawaii if we chose, and see the palms and the black beaches again. It was foolish talk, and I was grinning foolishly as I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it. When I let her hand go, it was curled around the scrap of paper I'd written out before. It said:

"When I say jump we both jump, and there will be a boat to take us free.

"Have a drink, dear Jay, May said gently, nodding me to the bar. And a while later she excused herself to the bathroom, and when she came out she went back to her sewing, only looking up to gossip about the fine fresh pineapple they'd served her for dinner and the strange dream she'd awakened with that morning.

Half an hour later we were still chattering away, when the first-level aircraft-warning bells began to ring. I assumed an expression of surprise and curiosity, and pulled May toward the port to look out.

And May's door opened, and little Jimmy Rex walked in.

He was eight years old then, spoiled rotten by Betsy for the past three, and for that matter born with his father's family's rotten blood in him. You must know that in three years the boy had visited his mother just twice. It was Betsy who had sent him, of course. His eyes were bright with an eight-year-old's deviltry. "Are you going to do something foolish, mother May? he asked, the voice clear, the face pure, the heart made up of equal parts brat and bully. I stood between them.