Fields of Night

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Though the Resheborian Embassy was heavily guarded and probably boodytrapped as well, the way to Ambassador Maxwell's office also presented no difficulties to the unarmed visitor. Clark walked in and found himself at the desk of Maxwell's private secretary, a dapper young Resheborian who looked him up and down with evident amusement.

"Yes?" he asked in Eyimalian.

Clark decided to reply in the Intersystems Language. "I must see Ambassador Maxwell at once."

Clark gave it and the secretary rose. "Please have a seat. I will notify him."

Having expected more trouble, Clark was now so relieved that he nearly obeyed, but he recovered in time to follow the secretary, partly to keep the advantage he seemed to hold and partly because he was afraid to be left alone. The secretary did not object, or even seem to notice. He said, "Clarkwell Brockhurst" into the annucnovox at Maxwell's door, received a brief reply and went away.

The office was a large box beautifully furnished in Resheborian style, with air-supported chairs and sofa swaying calmly in the occasional draft and pictures of various planetary heroes on the walls. A sheer tapestry cloth depicting the Eyimalian Rediscovery hung facing Clark, modestly folded to conceal the Resheborian ship. Maxwell's desk sat right on the floor in a corner to the left, between a row of windows overlooking the broad avenue and a painting of someone Clark did not recognize.

Maxwell himself appeared splendid in a sky-blue tunic and trousers all hemmed with black. His physical resemblance to Paula was strong, but the differences more expressive still. Short, heavy and dark like her, he was solid where she had been plump, his jaw square where hers rounded, and instead of Paula's merry smile he wore an unctuous, toothy grimace that vanished like a servant dismissed as soon as the two had touched hands.

Marlow sat down behind his desk, fingertips together. Clark sat down also, and was starting to open his mouth when the ambassador, accustomed to guiding the course of his interviews, spoke first.

"You are one of my daughter's friends."

"That's right."

"I trust she's well?"

Clark was lost. He had expected a murderer, but to hear anyone speak so calmly of his victim and issue was unbelievable.

Marlow thought Clark was fumbling for a lie. "You don't have to worry about giving her away, that she's traveling without a passport, trespassing and so forth. I know where she is."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed. "I'm telling you, son, that I do know. You and your Uchide pals may think you have her under your thumbs..."

Clark tried to think of something to say. He must do something or the ambassador would lose interest. Finally he took out the implant and identification strip and laid them on the desk.

Maxwell recognized them. He had not known. He stopped speaking. His face lost expression, mouth opening slightly, his shoulders sank forward though he remained upright, and he began to tremble. Tears seeped down his immobile face, but he continued to breathe evenly in an abject grief so subtle that no listening device or hidden eye would betray it.

When the silent weeping ceased, Clark said, "This transmitter was implanted at the People's Friendship Clinic. You were in charge."

"In charge? I wouldn't use that expression. I was coerced."

"You mean since you had beaten Paula nearly to death and the price for saving her was this thing, you paid it." Clark put the implant back in its case.

Maxwell did not reply.

"Who coerced you?" Clark pursued.

"Vladimir Ilki."

Clark glared at him. "That's the technician. Who put him up to it? You've got nothing to lose."

Maxwell snorted faintly. "Nothing at all. By the time you and my wife are through I'll be nothing, all right. Family! Holy clan fidelity! They bring their most consummate lies to the nursery." Next with a little sweeping gesture of the hand he returned to the subject and said, "The family name was Viyato."

"I don't believe you," Clark said. He did, but he wanted Maxwell to prove his assertion.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you killed," Maxwell snapped.

Clark answered tonelessly, as though the question bored him. This is like playing poker, he thought. "All the things I have are copies. The originals will be made public unless we come to some agreement."

Maxwell stood. "The Viyato prefer written communications, which make for less convincing evidence than conversations if the latter are recorded. I will ask you to step over to my reader, therefore, and examine my file of correspondence on the subject," he said.

Clark knew Maxwell could have someone else kill him, but still he felt a superstitious reluctance to turn his back on his adversary, and Maxwell appeared to share his disinclination. The two walked side by side across the room.

Most of the communications were short notes commanding Maxwell to direct mining and other contracts to various families. "Do you control the awarding of Resheborian contracts here?" Clark asked, hoping to put Maxwell in a more talkative mood.

"I advise, not award," was the reply.

Clark found a letter that began abruptly, "Intersystems Report on Exclusive Trade system is inaccurate. Include the following in your comments," with a long list of stories and assertions that exclusive agreements protected unsophisticated planets from exploitation. "Fraternal alliance of producer and merchant, each dependent on the other's skill and trust..." Clark read aloud. "You used that phrase in a speech to the Intersystem Conference on those exclusive trade agreements, right?"

Maxwell shrugged. "It's true. Mutual dependence is the only guarantee for any kind of fairness."

Clark almost said, "And Paula--" but he knew it was too late for such talk. Instead, he remarked, "You and the Viyato were mutually dependent."

"That's what kept your pal Sevit Uchide alive. Yes, I did Paula a favor. I've been known to treat my family...as they should be treated."

"How do you know he's alive?" Clark responded. His mind was racing. Maxwell knew the Viyatos. He could simply tell them to bring him Sevit. But none of the documents in Maxwell's file were signed, and no doubt the Viyato left as little trace through all the long course of Paula's murder. To bargain with them would have to mean giving up evidence about Ecclesiam purpuream or even the implants, and abetting their present crimes. His question was a misstep.

Maxwell apparently hadn't thought of trying to draw him into bargaining, however. He only said, "Everybody knows Uchide is alive..." But a moment ago he had thought Paula alive, and this seemed to occur to him now. Maxwell tottered, turned his back to Clark and leaned against the wall. After a moment he sat down in a floating chair. "Or at least, he was. Go on, keep reading."

Clark suffered an impulse to sit down and mourn with him privately, as if Paula's friend and father might console each other and then go back to the public work of being her avenger and her killer. Caught in the public role, however, he instead made the guilty man an interrogator's gift by asking a safe question.

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CONTINUE.....................

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