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Authors: Gene Wolfe

A Borrowed Man (27 page)

BOOK: A Borrowed Man
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I shook my head. He was scared and it showed, but probably not half as scared as I was. I said, “I'd like us to remain friends, Chick. Georges here is a friend of mine. If you're a friend, too, he won't have any reason to get rough with you.”

“Listen up! I can get rough myself!” His voice quavered.

“I'm sure you can. Please don't. Why were you following me?”

“'Cause you come out of headquarters! I wanted to find out what was up. If you'd been me, you'd have done the same thing.”

“I doubt it. You told us that your boss is an officer of the law.”

“He is! He's Continental, too. These guys are just local, and he can pull rank on them. Think they'd like that?”

Georges asked, “Who does he work for? What department?”

“It's the Continental Government, and that's all I know.”

“How'd he get you—”

The 'bot was coming to our table. I said, “We're fine. I don't believe anyone wants anything more just now.”

“Are you Mr. Fevre, sir? I have a screen.” It held up an eephone.

“I am.” Georges reached for it. “You turn the damn thing off and this is what you get.” With the eephone at his ear, he said, “Fevre.”

He listened, his face serious; then he said, “Hold it,” and turned to us. “Excuse me a minute. This is private.”

I said, “Certainly,” and he hurried out.

Chick grinned. “Your buddy's got problems.”

I nodded and tried not to look as relieved as I felt. “Don't we all.”

“Now that it's just you an' me, we can settle this like pals, right?” Chick picked up a pastry, took a bite, and followed it with a sip of hot chocolate.

“Yes,” I said. “I hope so.”

Chick gave me a lopsided grin. “To start, look at where you're sittin'. Your buddy was sittin' up close and watchin' my hands, all set to grab me anytime I went for my burner. You're not. I could draw, shoot under this table, an' you'd be rocket wrecked before you knew what happened.”

I smiled. “But you're not going to do that.”

“Right. I'll make you a deal. You want my boss's name, right? Well, I'll tell you—his first name an' last name, an' planetwide. Only you got to tell me what you were doin' in headquarters.” For an instant, Chick hesitated. “An' you got to go first.”

I said, “Fine, I will. How familiar are you with the house that your boss and his girlfriend were in when they saw us?”

“I never seen it, but I know where it is. He told me.”

“Good enough. Did you know that there was a murder committed in it a few weeks ago?”

Chick looked a trifle surprised. “I never heard nothin' about that. I didn't do it, an' I don't know who did.”

“There was. A young man named Conrad Coldbrook, Junior, was killed. Presumably you've seen your boss's girlfriend. Perhaps you've even spoken to her.”

I waited until Chick nodded.

“The victim was her brother, and the case is still unsolved. The police report on that murder is a matter of public record, available to anyone upon payment of a small fee.”

The report was in an inner pocket of my jacket. I took it out, unfolded it, and held it up. “I went to that police station to obtain it. Here it is. Would you like to read it?”

Slowly Chick nodded. “Look it over anyhow. That smooth with you?”

I said it was and handed him the report.

“A 'bot found the body an' told his pa when he got back? That must'a been rough.” Chick returned the report. “What's it to you?”

“That goes beyond our agreement. I've told you why I went to the station, and shown you the document I obtained there as proof. That fulfills my half. What's your boss's name?”

Chick finished his pastry and sipped hot chocolate. “You going to drink that tea?”

I sampled it obediently.

“You got me bothered a little. Maybe you can see it. See, I can tell you what my boss says his name is, an' I think it's the pure. Only I don't know for sure an' can't prove it. Dane van Petten is what he says. The other cops call him Dane.”

It took some prying to get Chick to describe van Petten, but eventually he did.

Georges returned and sat down. I glanced at him, and he said, “Later.”

“Fine.” I turned back to Chick. “How long have you been here? In New Delphi?”

“Since yesterday.”

“How did you get here?”

“None of your business.”

“I know,” Georges told me. “He came on the bus.”

Chick's eyes opened a trifle wider at that.

“Your boss sent you here,” I told him. “Or anyway, so I'd guess. If he didn't…” I shrugged. “I think he must have had a job here for you. If I'm wrong, you can laugh in my face. But if I'm right—and I believe I am—we may be able to help you accomplish it. You'll be able to report back to him proudly, and presumably you'll be well paid.”

Georges said, “His boss may have a stronger hold on him, be able to send him up whenever he wants. Something like that.”

I shook my head. “He was generous with me once in order to win my friendship. Clearly he was well paid.”

I turned back to Chick. “I'm in your debt, as I just said, and I'll help you if I can. What is it you're after?”

“Couple of things. The first one is find out what you're doin' here an' who that guy and the girl are that he seen with you. The other one is find out how you found out where him an' the girl was.”

Georges chuckled.

I glanced at him. “Your call, was it urgent?”

He nodded. “Fairly.”

“You may see to it, if you wish.”

“If you've got things to say to him”—Georges jerked a thumb at Chick—“that you don't want me to hear, just say so, and I'll go.”

“No, not at all. I admit that what I'm going to say to him next will sound so weak that I'll be discomfited. Truthful answers to his questions will be embarrassing, in other words; and I'd prefer not to be thus embarrassed in your hearing.” I sighed. “No doubt it will be salutary, however.”

“You're a village cadet.” Georges was still grinning. “Clean as snow.”

“If you say so.”

Chick selected another pastry. “You come for the fruit festival?”

“I'm afraid not. Basically I came because I was terribly concerned about Colette. That's your boss's girlfriend, I take it.”

“That's what he calls her, yeah.”

“You have to understand that I didn't know then that she'd been arrested. This was in Owenbright. The bed was mussed, a lamp had been knocked over, and she had left her shaping bag behind. At that time, we supposed that van Petten and his confederate were criminals.”

“Cops? Yeah, they all are. Just dig down a little.”

“I had been arrested myself, taken to a safe house, tormented—tortured would be too strong a word—and questioned for hours. I had escaped. I hoped to find Colette and help her to escape as well.”

Chick nodded. “I got it.”

I finished my tea, which was getting cold. “Where to look? She and I had seen them in Spice Grove. She had been kidnapped, as I then thought, in Owenbright. When I had been in New Delphi with her, she had clearly been convinced they were there as well. There, perhaps, more than anywhere else. That they had planted their listening devices in the family home, for that matter.”

“So you come here. I got it.”

“Correct, I did. Everything seemed to revolve around the fortune Colette was in the process of inheriting, and that fortune—her father's fortune—around the murder of her brother. Thus it seemed quite possible she had been taken here; and that if only I understood the fate that had overtaken Conrad Coldbrook, Junior, I might understand the entire affair.”

Chick was watching me sidelong; he said, “Smooth. Do you?”

I shrugged. “Not yet, but I'm trying. That's why I went to the police station and paid to get the police report. You wanted to know why I was here and who the couple who had come with me were. Now you have the answer to your first question. The second is not at all complex. Georges?”

“Sure, if you want me to.”

He turned to Chick. “You came here on the bus. So did we. It's a long drive and there are stops—you know all about that now. We met Mr. Smithe on the bus and got to talking with him. We liked him, and it looked to us like he liked us. It was raining buckets when we got here.”

Georges waited for Chick to speak, but he remained silent.

“He asked where we were staying, and I told him we didn't have anything lined up. We'd have to wait till the rain stopped, then have a look around. He said he had a card for a mansion, and we could stay there with him until we got settled.”

“Yeah. What's your name?”

“Georges Fevre.”

“What about the lady's?”

“Ask her.”

“Yeah, I will. I'm supposed to believe all this turdticky?”

“It's true,” Georges told him, “and I don't give a busted bucket whether you believe it or not.”

Chick spoke to me. “You got him and the lady helpin' you? That's all it is?”

I nodded. “Georges is an acute observer and the lady with him is much better on a screen than I am. If they're willing to help me, I'm happy to have them. I'll be happy to have your help as well. What about it?”

Chick was silent.

“If you're willing to join us, we'll welcome you. If you're not, Georges will confiscate your pistol and we'll turn you loose. Which is it?”

Chick cursed under his breath.

“Please understand, we won't be confiscating your pistol as some sort of punishment. I simply do not want to be shot.”

“Only you want to be pals?”

“Exactly.” I smiled.

“Smooth. I'm in, Mr. Smithe. What you want me to do?”

“You have funds, I know. I want you to find the main public library here. Ask if they have the poet Arabella Lee. Not her books, the person.”

“On a shelf, like.”

“Exactly. If they have her, check her out.” I considered. “For a week. That should be enough.”

Reluctantly, Chick nodded.

“If they don't have her, tell them you want her. Ask them to borrow her from another library for you. You'll have to get a library card, to start with. I'm sure you understand.”

Chick had thought of a new objection. “What if she won't come?”

“Come back and tell me why she objected, and anything the librarians may have said. I doubt that we'll be here. We'll probably be at the Coldbrook house, the country house you call the mansion. Bring her there if you get her, and come there alone and report if you don't. There's a 'bot. It will let you in. If we're not back yet, it will make you comfortable while you wait for us.”

Chick rose. “Sounds like candy. Be seein' you in a couple hours.”

He walked away, and I told his back, “Good luck!”

Georges waited until he had gone. “You wanted to get rid of him.”

“I did. What did Mahala say?”

Georges nodded. “You're right, it was her. Somebody there let her use a screen, I guess. Either that or she found one nobody was watching.”

“Or several other things. What did she tell you?”

“She'd seen that picture in the sunroom, the one that shows the Coldbrooks, the whole family. You pointed it out to us one time.”

I nodded.

“Maybe she found some other pictures, too, while she was searching. Anyway, a young woman came into the bus station looking for somebody. Brunette, pretty tall and fashionably dressed, expensive clothes. She went around looking at people, then she left.” Georges took a deep breath. “Mahala's seen those pictures in the sunroom, and she's pretty sure this woman was Colette Coldbrook.”

I got up and walked to the big window at the other end of the room. We were five floors up, and the ceilings were high all over the store. I stared down at the spotless sidewalks and orderly traffic, and up at the pure blue and almost cloudless sky until my watch struck the hour.

Georges was still at our table when I returned; I had half expected him to be gone. He wanted to know what I had been thinking about.

“Motivations,” I told him. “The reasons why people act. Motivations are always important, and I haven't been thinking nearly enough about them. Not principally about yours or Mahala's, but I'm going to start with those. You suggested that we rendezvous in the bus station. You were afraid of the police; and I suppose you suggested we meet there mostly because all three of us knew where it was and there were places to sit down, buy food, and so on. People can wait there without arousing curiosity.”

“Sure.” Georges sounded impatient. “Now you're going to ask me something. What is it?”

“You and Mahala have been together ever since I met you on the bus. Why did you leave her in the bus station, and where did you go?”

He grinned. “I can tell you, but I doubt you'll believe me. I guess you thought I was afraid I'd be arrested.”

“Yes. I did.”

“I'm not. I told you once the police have already seen more of me than they ever wanted to. You shouldn't have doubted me.”

“I see.” I waved the wait 'bot over and asked for more tea.

When it had gone, Georges said, “It's Mahala they want. She can't talk, and that makes her a defective. They want to lock her up.”

I knew that already, but this did not seem to be the time to discuss it.

“We've got money now, both of us, thanks to you. We need new clothes and at least one more suitcase to carry them in. We decided I'd come here, buy a few things I need pretty badly and another bag, and she'd wait in the station in case you came. We could both go shopping when there was less pressure and more time.”

“I see. How did she know you'd be here, in this restaurant?”

BOOK: A Borrowed Man
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