Habu. James B. Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ without checking with the family. “Since, as you said, it was a rare death and the pathologist specified cremation, perhaps they’d have the film of the autopsy.”

      “My God! You’d...you’d watch that?”

      “I’d dig up her corpse if I had to,” he said. He drained his drink and refilled it.

      Tique was looking at him with a combination of sus­picion, awe and horror.

      “I take it that you didn’t see any of the evidence,” he said.

      “I’m not a doctor.” Tique went to the command con­sole, punched keypads, and read a list scrolling on the inset screen. “There.” She touched another pad and waited. “Doctor Crowell, please.”

      Reubin went back to his room to shower and change.

      When he returned, Tique shook her head. “No good. Doctor Crowell is gone for the day and his office will not release any of the information without his permis­sion.”

      “Even though we’re next of kin?”

      “Well, she was a government minister and entitled to confidentiality.” Tique shook her head.

      “First thing tomorrow, then,” Reubin said.

      It had long since occurred to him that if you inquire about a recently deceased person, the central locator should refer you to the next of kin, a doctor, or at least some minor functionary. They don’t simply report “No listing.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      TEQUILLA SOVEREIGN

      Well before the start of business the next morning, Tique’s comm chime woke her. Instead of the pa­thologist, the Prime Minister’s office contacted her: Would she and Mister Flood kindly attend the PM?

      Tequilla explained to Reubin.

      “Why?” he asked.

      “I don’t know....”

      “You know something.”

      Yes, she did, but she didn’t want to show it. She looked at him frankly. His face appeared rested, yet his eyes were dark and dangerous. She shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s rather personal.”

      Reubin cocked his head and set his coffee down on the table. “Death is personal. Alex and I were married, that’s personal. Now what is it?”

      The man was like a weed-burr under your saddle har­ness while riding: irritating. “Fels Nodivving was, uh, shall I say, pursuing Mother in a, um, romantical way.”

      “A bureaucrat would have chosen those words. But I see your point.” He thought for a moment. “Even after Alex returned here to Snister a married woman?”

      “Yes. Or so it seemed to me.” Her mother had rolled her eyes upon a similar question from Tique. “Maybe even more so.” Tique recalled her mother saying, “It’s worse than ever, hon. Fels is persistent. I’ll be glad to close out my affairs and go off with Reubin to start our new life together.” Tique hadn’t paid much attention. As this was her own first life, she’d been in the midst of an emotional struggle. The coming permanent parting from her mother promised to be worse than the forced sepa­ration from her father when he’d left to take the Long Life treatment and head for the frontier. And her mother had been strangely reluctant to cut the bond between them, too. “You’ve been closer to me than many of my children,” she’d told Tique. “You’ve never had to leave your folks or your offspring; I’ll tell you it’s difficult, sometimes—sometimes it’s a blessing. This time, well, regrets beat at me like waves on the beach.” Alex had smiled. “I oughta be a poet or something, huh?” Now, Tique felt a wave of sorrow.

      Interrupting her reverie, Reubin responded. “Even so, if the man Nodivving desired your mother, why does he want to see us instead of allowing us to visit with some minor official, like the pathologist?”

      Tique shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s possible that the Prime Minister wants to meet the man who won the woman he wanted.”

      “Take my measure?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Perhaps,” said Reubin, “he thinks I know some­thing. That explanation fits more than others.”

      Tique rose from their breakfast. Reubin followed, car­rying dishes to the slot. “That’s a solid answer,” she said, “but it doesn’t make sense.”

      “It makes more sense than a lot of other things here which haven’t made sense more.”

      “What?” Tique asked. Who the hell was this man? A man whom she’d resented as much as she’d ever resented anyone. He had been going to take Mother away. Not only Tique’s mother, but her best friend, too. Reubin Flood hadn’t known Mother for more than a few real-time weeks and he was taking her off. The anger and resentment Tique had felt even before Mother died re­turned.

      Reubin went to look out the window. “Never mind. Tell me about this Prime Minister.”

      “On the way. Don’t want to be late.” She was glad she could put off talking to him even momentarily.

      As they drove across the city, Tique talked, interrupt­ing herself on occasion to show Reubin special sights. Anything to occupy her mind and keep her anger and resentment down. “The city, Cuyas, is rather modern. In the outlands, however, things quite contrast.”

      “We can talk wormwood later,” he said. “Tell me about Fels Nodivving.” Reubin’s eyes never rested as she drove. They reminded her of a wild creature: always as­sessing.

      A sheet of rain hit the aircar and she activated the blower to clear the forward and rear portions of the bubble-canopy. She allowed the road’s computer to con­trol their pace. As long as they were on a major thor­oughfare, the road would do the driving for them.

      “How do I explain the Prime Minister?” Tique said. “It’s all tied up with economics. Fels Nodivving is the Chief Executive Officer of Snister Wormwood, Inc. This is a Company planet. As CEO, he is automatically the Prime Minister. He runs the planet, business and govern­ment.”

      “Prime Minister,” Reubin said, “by definition, con­notes a variation of the parliamentary system. Which, in turn, usually means a democratic system, more or less. True?”

      “Oh, we’re free enough,” she said, checking her weather radar. “It’s just that the Company goes in for the necessary window dressing. We’re free personally. We just don’t have much say in governmental affairs.”

      “Sort of self-contradictory,” Reubin said.

      Tique glanced at him. His face was neutral. “No. Not when you understand that the Company is the government.”

      “That’s how they used to explain it, the party theo­rists.”

      There was no rancor in his voice. Tique guessed—mostly from hints her mother had dropped—he was another of the Original Earthers who “had seen every­thing, been everywhere.” One of the few remaining who’d been through the entire history of Earth’s expan­sion СКАЧАТЬ