Farradyne wondered how soon the fuss would start once the drums of
refined thorium ore went under some hidden beam of ultra violet light.
He watched the drums being trundled off and disappearing. He watched
and waited until it was evening, but no one came on the double-run to
ask him leading questions.
He finally took off about nine o'clock, and made the looping run from
New Jersey to Los Angeles in time to get there just about dusk.
He checked into the control Tower at seven o'clock, and went over to
the mail-listing window. "Anything for Charles Farradyne?"
"Expecting something?"
"At least one. A payment voucher from Eastern Atomic. Come yet?"
The mail clerk disappeared; came back with one envelope. "Nothing from
Eastern Atomic," he said. "But here's a letter for Charles Farradyne,
Pilot of ship's registry Six-Eight-Three, a Lancaster Eighty-One. That
must be yours."
"It's mine. But keep an eye peeled for a landwire payment voucher,
will you? I had to leave Newark before it was ready and the guy at
the shipping office said he'd notify the company that the stuff was
received at the 'port, and that I'd be in Los Angeles. Okay?"
"Aye-firm."
The letter was from Carolyn; a brief note telling him that she would be
ready for the trip on the morning of the fifth. This suited Farradyne;
he had been afraid that Carolyn might be waiting at the spaceport for
him, and that they'd be taking off before Clevis had a chance to find
out about the unwashed drum-ends.
She also suggested in a postscript that she would be in her hotel and
free any evening after nine o'clock. Farradyne looked at his watch and
decided what to do with the intervening two hours: he was going to buy
a love lotus, to check on the question of her immunity.
On this problem Farradyne had to admit a lack of experience. He
wandered for some time, entering one florist-shop after another and
getting nowhere. He could buy a gardenia for five, but the fifty he
offered for a 'Corsage' could only buy something resembling the garland
they put on Kentucky Derby Winners.
And then as his two hours were about gone, a seedy-looking character
sidled up alongside and said, "Lookin' for somepin', Jack?"
"Who isn't?"
"Might be able to fix y' up, Jack. Got a few?"
Farradyne looked at his watch. "I've got fifteen," he said.
"Won't take that long. Just try the stand in the Essex, and tell 'em
Lovejoy sent you to pick up his corsage. Cost ya half a yard, Jack. Got
it?"
"Got it."
The character slipped away leaving a faint aroma of decaying cloth
and a trace of gardenia, making what Farradyne considered a God-awful
mixture. Farradyne did not look to see where he went, but started for
the Essex immediately.
The flower-shop attendant was a dark, handsome woman in a low-cut
dinner dress. She gave Farradyne a mechanical smile as he entered.
"I'm a friend of Mr. Lovejoy," said Farradyne significantly. "He said
he'll be late, and asked me if I'd stop by and pick up his corsage on
my way."
"Oh. Of course. Just one moment." She disappeared for a few minutes and
came back with a fancy transparent box containing a gardenia--or a love
lotus. "That will be five dollars, sir," she said.
Farradyne took a fifty from his wallet and handed it to her. The girl
rang up five on the register but put the whole fifty in the till.
A few minutes later, the desk clerk at Carolyn's hotel informed him
that Miss Niles was expecting a Mr. Farradyne and he should go right up
to Room Seven Twenty-Three.
* * * * *
Carolyn greeted him warmly, took him by the hand and drew him into the
room. Once the door was closed she came into his arms and kissed him,
not too fervently but very pleasantly, with her body pressing his for
a long moment. Then she moved out of his arms and accepted the flower.
"Lovely," she breathed.
She opened the box and held the white flower at arms' length, admiring
its beauty. Then she held it to her nose and took a deep breath,
letting the fragrance fill her lungs.
Farradyne's mind did a flip-flop. First he felt like a louse--and he
felt that it was only what she and her kind did to other women, and it
was damn well good enough for her. She smiled at him over the edge of
the blossom, still breathing in its fragrance.
"Maybe," she said archly, "I shouldn't dare do this."
The badinage was the same as it had been a couple of weeks ago, but
at that time both of them knew the blossom was pure gardenia. Now
Farradyne knew that it was not, and this knowledge made him wary. He
hoped his smile was honest-looking. "You're hooked already," he grinned
wolfishly.
Carolyn tucked the blossom in her hair and came into his arms, leaning
back to look in his eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, Charles," she said
in a low, throaty voice.
"No?"
Carolyn laughed at him and slipped out of his arms. She went to a
tiny sideboard and waved an inquiring hand at a bottle of Farradyne's
favorite liquor. He nodded. As she mixed their drinks, she said
quietly, "Don't disappoint me, Charles."
"How?" he asked, wondering what she was driving at, and feeling that
this had nothing to do with hellflowers.
She handed him the highball, and sipped at her own drink. "I think
you know that my family is a long way from poverty. And I hope you'll
forgive me if I point out that I know I am rather well equipped with
physical charms. I also flatter myself that I have a mind large enough
to absorb some of the interesting factors of this rather awesome
universe."
"I will grant you the truth of all three."
"Thanks," she said, smiling at him over the top of her glass. "But the
point is, Charles, that a girl with a bit of money in the top of her
stocking--and a brain in her head--wonders whether the gentleman is
interested only in the money, or in the shape of her stocking. She'd
like to feel that the gentleman in question would still be interested
if the shape of the stocking went a bit gauche with age, and the money
disappeared."
Farradyne looked at her and wondered. Carolyn was a consummate actress.
The hellflower was still in her hair, and Farradyne wanted very much
to take his face in his hands and ponder this problem deeply: Carolyn
Niles was the daughter of a hellflower operator, and, by all that was
holy, at least her parents should have taught her how to recognize a
hellflower at ninety paces in a dusky smoke-filled nightclub.
But he knew that he could not take the time to think this out now.
He had to reply. He walked across the room and took Carolyn by the
shoulders and shook her gently. "Let's leave it just that way," he
said. "Sooner or later something will give me away--and then you'll
know whether I'm after your body, your money, or your mind." Farradyne
kissed her lightly. "Until you _know_, nothing I say will convince you
of anything."
Farradyne still had her shoulders under his palms; Carolyn moved
forward into his arms and rested herself against him. She put up her
face for his kiss and held herself close against him. Then she said
dreamily, "You're a nice sort of guy, Charles, and I'll be very happy
to leave it that way. Maybe you'll be the one who stays."
* * * * *
Farradyne recoiled mentally and hoped that this instinctive reaction
was not noticed. It was too easy to forget what Carolyn represented,
when she went soft and sweet and eager. Inwardly he cursed himself
and his all-too-easy ability to forget that this was not a personal
conflict.
Then he relaxed and decided that if this was what he had to do to cut
the hellblossom ring out of human culture, it was nice work if you
could get it. The job would have been much less pleasant if Carolyn
Niles had been a gawky, ugly duckling with buck teeth and a pasty
complexion.
"Charles," she breathed, "take me out into the dark?"