A shiver crossed Farradyne's nerves and he felt the muscle-loosening
tingle of fear. His thinking mechanism stopped functioning. His mind
buzzed with a frenetic insistence that he say something, but he was
completely unprepared. And he dimly knew that his long speechlessness
was as damning as any story he could have prepared after such a pause.
He thought all the way around in a circle, coming back to the fact that
he should say something but that his mind was so busy insisting that he
fill in this bizarre event that it did not furnish him with anything to
say.
Then it occurred to him that he need not say anything. The die had
been cast and he stood accused, twice; once by the Niles family and
once by his own shocked reaction. What he must do was act for the next
moment because the passed moment was irreparable. One of two things was
evident: either Cahill was a double-dealing rat or the man was hand in
glove with the Niles and that meant--
Farradyne laughed at his own simplicity. It was a sort of brief,
scornful bark.
"What is funny?" asked Mr. Niles.
"It just occurred to me--the brilliant concept that you people are
either innocent or guilty."
"Very sage," commented Niles drily. "You don't seem quite that bright,
Mr. Farradyne. Not even that bright. Now, what happened to Cahill?"
Only for a fleeting moment did Farradyne follow the possibility that
Niles was innocent. There had been no attempt on Cahill's part to
contact anybody from the time Farradyne met him until he saw him last
alive. Ergo, the Niles must have been forearmed with Cahill's plan.
This was the place that Cahill would have brought him; it had just
taken him a bit longer to get here without the proper guide.
He leaned back, trying to relax. He took a sip of his martini, not that
he wanted it, but to see if his hand were still trembling. It did not
seem to shake.
He said, "If you knew Cahill and his whereabouts, you also know quite
a bit about me. You'll have heard that I was recognized in a bar on
Ganymede by a woman named Norma Hannon, who is a hellflower addict. She
hated my guts because I am Charles Farradyne and her brother was among
those present when I had the accident in The Bog. She hung onto me for
the emotional ride it gave her. I succeeded in locating the home of her
parents and was going to take her home when I met Cahill, who offered
to come along after a bit of talk. Then during the night, Cahill made a
pass at Norma, and she shot him. I put his body out through the scuttle
port."
"Cahill was always a damned fool," nodded Niles. "He was a dame-crazy
idiot and it served him right. Some men prefer money, power or model
railroads. Women are poison."
"I seem to have followed one of them like a little lamb," said
Farradyne. "But I was picked up and brought here for a purpose, so
let's get down to cases."
"You're a rather quick-on-the-trigger man, aren't you? What makes you
assume that this purpose was anything beyond finding out about Cahill?"
"Because you have tipped your hand," said Farradyne feeling more at
ease. "You could have accomplished the same thing by tipping the
police and waiting for the case to be newscast. If Cahill admitted to
hellflower running, it was for a purpose, too. I call the same logic in
you, Niles."
"Please. _Mister_ Niles. I'm a bit your senior."
"All right. Mr. Niles. I've learned one thing so far: I can tell a love
lotus operator from the rest of the system."
"How?" They all leaned forward eagerly.
"Because it is the real operators that take an amused view of my
alleged machinations. They know the facts."
"Very sage. You are a bit brighter than you appeared a moment ago."
"May I ask why you let me cool my heels for almost a month before you
hauled me in?" He looked at Carolyn with a wry smile. "I would make
a mild bet you weren't more than a few hundred feet from me all the
while?"
"You are a blind man, Farradyne," she said calmly.
Mr. Niles smiled knowingly. "There are a lot of unexplained items
in your past, Farradyne. We never could be too sure that you were
not a Sandman. Of course, it does seem a bit hard to believe that a
government operative would crash a spacer and kill thirty-three people
just to establish a bad reputation, especially when his own neck was
involved in the affair. Still, such a deal might have been managed. So
we have been checking on you and from that angle you are clean. Then
comes the question of Cahill. It might be that you thought turning in a
hellflower operator would help to smooth your lot in life, mayhap get
you a bit of a reward. So we waited. No Cahill. Cahill started to bring
you here; he would either have turned up with or without you. Or he
would have gotten in touch with us. Unless Cahill was dead. You would
know the answer. Norma Hannon is keeping her mouth shut, so far as we
know. Of course no one would believe a blank anyway, and she probably
knows that. So it stands to reason that you know more about Cahill than
anybody else."
"No more than I've told you. Cahill came and made me a sort of sidelong
offer."
"That much of it rings as true as the other. But there are still holes
in your story."
Farradyne nodded. "Let's put it this way: there are ways of getting
money and things. I found one way, which is an obvious fact. But I have
been told time and again that the entering wedge to a full confession
is a willingness to talk. Do you follow me?"
"I do. But--"
Farradyne smiled. "I don't care to face it. Not in company, Mr. Niles."
Farradyne's emphasis on the "Mister" was heavy with sarcasm. Niles
looked at him piercingly.
"You are a bit belligerent and a trifle sure of yourself. Close-mouthed
and apparently able to get along. You'll be out on a lonely limb for
some time, Farradyne, but we can use you."
"I can use the sugar," said Farradyne.
"Naturally. Anybody can use money. In fact everybody needs money. What
visible means of support have you?"
"I've a subcontract. Once each month I'm to lug a load of thorium
refines from Pluto to Terra."
"It's a start but it isn't enough."
"I'll pick up more, doubtless."
Niles leaned back and put the tips of his fingers together
pontifically. "One of the hardest jobs in this business is to justify
your standard of living. The financial rewards are large and the hours
involved are small. It is patent that a man who has not been granted a
large inheritance or perhaps stumbled on a lucrative asteroid, cannot
live in a semi-royal manner without having to work in a semi-royal
fury. One of the great risks in this business is the acceptance of a
recruit whose appearance causes discussion. The day when a man can
build a fifty-thousand-dollar home on a five-thousand-dollar salary
without causing more than a raised eyebrow has gone. If a man has a
hidden income, he must appear busy enough to warrant it--or at least
provide a reasonable facsimile."
"This I can understand."
"For a job like this," explained Niles, "we prefer the natural-born
spaceman, with sand in his shoes or space dust in his eyes. Because
the man with a bad case of wanderlust always looks busy even when he
is idling. You seem to be that sort, but we never can tell until it is
tried. Unless, of course, you turn out to be woman-crazy."
"I'm a normal enough male," said Farradyne. "I'll remind you that
Cahill was the guy that tried and failed."
"How normal are you?" demanded Niles. "We'd have less liking for a
misogynist than for a satyr here."
Farradyne smiled serenely. "I have enough sense to keep my hands off
Norma Hannon, but I have enough red blood to come home with Carolyn.
That good enough?"
Niles thought a moment. "Could be. Anyway we'll find out. For one
thing, Farradyne, you'll be in no position to hurt anyone but yourself
if you're playing games. Once we're really sure of you, it won't matter
any more because you will be in a position to get hurt plenty. We'll
try it, and see. Now, when do you go to Pluto?"
"I've some schoolteachers to haul out there tomorrow. I've taken them
on--"
"Good. Gives you a good background without much labor. Now, when you
land on Terra, you'll not bother posting your ship for a job because
you have already contracted for a job. Carolyn will be there on a
business trip for me and will have chartered your ship for a hauling
job back to Mercury. During this trip you will get some more details on
how you are to operate. This much I can tell you now, Farradyne: you
will be an inbetweener, in fact almost the operator you set yourself up
to be. But with one difference, we'll inform you just who is and who is
not to be trusted. In other words, you'll have your regular customers
and you will sell to no one else. They'll take your entire supply,
pay for it and you will take your profit. The remainder you will use
to purchase your supply from the upper source. Advancement may come
slow or fast, depending on you. You'll get the details later, as for
now--" Niles leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Farradyne, you met
my daughter in a cocktail lounge and several people heard the two of
you planning an evening together. So you will go dancing and dining and
have a drink or two and maybe a bit of lovemaking, which is an entirely
natural performance. And from this moment you will be Charles and I
shall be Mr. Niles and we'll have no nonsense. Understand?"
"I do."
"Good. Now have another martini while Carolyn dresses for dinner."
Niles poured. Carolyn disappeared. Mrs. Niles leaned forward and
asked, "Charles, why did you become a spaceman?" Her tone of voice and
attitude made her seem like all the other fathers and mothers who have
asked the same question. For the moment he forgot about her position
in this odd scheme of things just because she looked precisely fitted
to the role she played for public consumption. Almost mechanically,
Farradyne began to explain. He knew the story by rote because he had
told it so often in the same manner and to the same sort of person.
This gave his mind a chance to consider them, partly.
Mr. and Mrs. Niles appeared to be the successful businessman and his
wife. The aura of respectability extended to include the house and
its spacious grounds, so that Farradyne burned with resentment at any
proposition whereby he, who had not committed anything more than a few
misdemeanors and some rather normal fun and games which are listed on
the books but are likely to be overlooked, should be less cultured,
less successful and less poised than this family of low-grade vultures.
If anything, the attitude of Mrs. Niles shocked him more than the acts
of her husband. Men were the part of the race that play the rough games
and run up the score, according to Farradyne. Women occupied one of
two positions: they were patterned after Farradyne's mother who had
been a poised, mature woman of education and breeding, if a trifle
puritanical; or they were slatterns and sluts and they looked as well
as acted the part. So instead of Mrs. Niles presiding over the mansion
as a gracious lady, she should be loud and cheap. That she was poised
and gracious offended Farradyne's sense of fitness.
As for Carolyn, who was equally engaged in this loathsome game,
Farradyne felt annoyed because there was nothing about her outward
appearance that would permit him to scorn her. Like her parents, she
gave the impression of success, as though the business they were all
engaged in were both honorable and beneficial. Farradyne yearned for
the moment when he could pull the pedestal out from under them and dump
them into the mud where they damned well belonged.
Farradyne became, in those few moments, a more mature man. He
understood Clevis' attitude. Always before, he wondered why a clever
man would work for peanuts at a thankless job which included anonymity
when he could have put his efforts into some sort of business and
emerge wealthy and famous. Now Farradyne was beginning to understand
the personal satisfaction that could be gained by following in the
footsteps of a man like Clevis. In Niles' own words, some men like
money, others like power and still others build model railroads. Well,
some achieve their personal gain by rooting out the lice that undermine
the moral fiber of the race, and this gives them the same satisfaction
that amassing a billion dollars gives a man whose ambition is wealth.
Money had never been Farradyne's god. He had not wanted more than
enough to exchange for the fun and games he preferred, and these
did not come high. He found himself elated to have discovered a new
outlet for his nervous energy and his urge to do something. Performing
a thankless job in anonymity could provide for Farradyne a deep
satisfaction in proving that he was smarter than people like Niles and
family.
He smiled as his mouth got to the point in his story where he was
telling about the time he had landed the training ship perfectly--but
nine feet above ground, so that the ship dropped the nine feet and
nearly flunked him out of spaceman's school. He knew that his smile was
hypocritical and he enjoyed this sort of thing. If Niles could play
the hypocritical game, so could Farradyne. But Farradyne could play
it better because his own kind of hypocrisy was--he hated to call it
righteous but could not find a better word to describe it. He could
play Niles' game, and he could even go along with Mrs. Niles, although
he wondered how a woman that looked as honorable as Mrs. Niles could
justify her willingness to have a daughter engaged in the vile game
of hellflower running. He could play their game because he would have
little contact with them.
But he wondered whether he could play the game Carolyn expected. He
did not know exactly what she expected but his guess was that anybody
amoral enough to run dope would hardly cavil at anything else. He
knew that many a man could lie in his teeth and play the role of spy
convincingly, but when the role included making love to a woman whose
background was distasteful to a man, Farradyne believed that this
distaste would show through anything he did.
And then Carolyn came down the stairs in a white strapless evening
dress and Farradyne knew that he was going to have trouble remembering
that she was worthy of only shapeless, gray prison denim. "You have to
dress, too, Charles," she said in a soft voice, reminding him of their
plans for the evening.
Farradyne nodded and got up. He wondered how she could possibly act
this part of a young, marriageable woman pleased with a date when
at the same time she was engaged in a hellishly illegal operation.
He realized at the same time that Carolyn had most likely spent her
entire life this way and was attuned to it. Such was her natural way of
living, and there was not going to be any possibility of weaning her
into a life of honorable struggle.
Then she put her hand into his elbow and gave a little squeeze and
Farradyne found it not too hard to put his personal attitude into a
small compartment in his mind and half-close the door. The bait was
very attractive and only the image of Norma Hannon and her dulled eyes
remained with Farradyne to keep that compartment of his mind open to
the character of Carolyn Niles.
8
In the salon of the Lancaster, Farradyne smiled knowingly. "The plan
was to let you investigate this ship while I dressed, but I gather you
have seen your share of spacers."
"I admit it," she replied. "For that I am sorry, Charles. But I
couldn't very well have played the know-it-all, could I?"
"I suppose not. Well, park yourself somewhere while I get into whites."
She sat down and stretched. "A highball and a cigarette?" she inquired.
"The cigarette is easy," he said, handing one to her and flipping his
lighter. "But the highball may be more difficult. I've nothing but
White Star Trail aboard."
She nodded at him. "With water," she said. She relaxed into the
cushions. Farradyne went and mixed her highball. She sipped it and
nodded approvingly. "Charles, please go dress but fast--I am rather
more hungry than curious about the insides of a spacer."
"Of course." He turned to go.
"Charles?" She rose and came forward, lifting her hands to put them on
his shoulders. He stood woodenly. "Charles," she asked in a soft voice,
"are you unhappy because I am not the girl you hoped I'd be?"
Farradyne wanted to hurt her. "How many men have you played this role
for?" he asked.
A wry smile twisted her face. "I should slap your face for that," she
said. "Because when I tell you the answer you won't believe me."
Caution came to him. He was the rookie hellflower operator, not the
young man who has discovered that his girl has been playing games
behind his back. He tried to fit himself into her picture and decided
that according to her code of loused-up ethics she might possibly be
thinking of a future: a pleasant home with rambling roses and a large
lawn and a devoted husband and maybe a handful of happy children all
creating the solid-citizen facade for dope running, just as her parents
were doing. If this were the case, Farradyne was to play the suitor.
He must carry roses for his wife in one hand, toys for the kids in the
other and his hip pocket must be filled with hellflowers.
He played it. He relaxed and put his hands on her waist. "I admit
to being a bit of a louse," he said with a brief laugh. "But that's
because I'm a bit new at a very rough game."