Gateway To Xanadu (20 page)

“Am I supposed to be blind?” he asked, watching me sit back down. “If I’m-excuse the expression-into females, why would I miss going after one like you?”

“Don’t you have any imagination?” I complained with a sigh. “if you have your eye on me along with everyone else, why would you be thinking of selling me? And if you’re not thinking of selling me, Little might decide to stay with the kidnap squad, instead of taking you to Ragman for an offer to be made. If Radman’s offer hits you the wrong way, you’re big enough to do the same to Radman, which would abruptly shorten Little’s life span. It’s simple logic, Val, so it shouldn’t be beyond you. If anyone asks, tell them little girls, no matter how pretty, turn you off. Lots of men feel like that, at least the normal ones, so lie a little and pretend that you do, too.”

“Why do I have the feeling I’ve just been insulted?” he asked the empty air, then brought his eyes back to me. “Am I mistaken, or did you just call me something other than normal?”

“I called an interest in a very young girl something other than normal,” I said very sweetly to the look in his eyes. “If you don’t fall into that category, it can’t have been an insult toward you.”

“That’s true,” he said with a judicious nod. “In point of fact, little girls don’t turn me on, not the way big girls do, especially certain big girls. When I don’t have to fight to stay undamaged, that is.”

“Yes, that kind of fight would certainly be a turn-off,” I agreed. “I guess it’s a good thing uncle Val has no real interest in little Jennifer.”

“Okay, okay, I got the point,” he grumbled with one hand up. “Little Jennifer could dance naked in front of uncle Val, and all he’d do is yawn. Is there anything else I have to know?”

“One of the most important things has to be that if you run into trouble and I’m not around to help, call the Management,” I answered with a frown. “Clients are protected on that world, so that’s your best and only out. There must be more, but my mind is too eager to get started; it’s not letting me think about what everyone knows except you. I’ll try to think about it while you’re making the reservations, but we’ll have to come up with an emergency code for talking about things like that when we’re where we might be overheard.”

“We already have a code that no one will be able to break,” he came back with sudden inspiration, pointing a finger at me. “The trade language Dameron gave you. Can we get away with calling it a private family language?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said slowly, liking the idea as soon as I heard it. “If anyone says anything about never having heard of such a thing, we turn very surprised over their lack of knowledge. Almost everyone we know has a family language, handed down through the generations to all branches of the family. We just won’t give them any translations of any part of it, to make sure no one feeds it ,into a language computer. That was really good thinking, Val.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grin for the pat on the back I’d given him, standing up as I got to my feet. “Are we ready to go now?”

“I don’t know how ready we are, but that’s what we’re doing,” I agreed with a nod, walking over to return my coffee cup to the recess I’d gotten it from. “We still have some time for me to remember whatever it is I’m missing, but I wish . . .”

I let it trail off because we did have the time, but I still felt vaguely annoyed. The term, “properly thorough briefing” had taken on new meaning with Val around, but I couldn’t let that distract me from everything else that had to be considered. My partner and I moved together toward the door, then left the suite.

We stopped for a quick breakfast, and that was when Val “just happened” to bring up the subject of my wardrobe; since the same thought had already occurred to me, I hadn’t been able to argue very convincingly. As that security man had pointed out the night before, my clothes were geared to a full-grown woman, not to a young girl, and something had to be done about them. It would be stupid to give anyone on Xanadu food for thought which just might be digested after I had taken care of Radman; it was an unnecessary risk which could result in my having to produce the death warrant, and there was no telling how Xanadu’s Management would react to it. Oh, they were legally bound to honor the Council’s instrument just the way any other Federation planet was, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t give me one hell of a rough time before they did. No, the wardrobe problem had to be taken care of; I just didn’t like the way Val intended doing it.

We went to the shuttle reservations desk first, waited for the couple in front of us to finish their business, then found out that the earliest reservation we could get was for late that afternoon. Val was pleasant about it and accepted the added delay without strain, but I had to pretend to total indifference to keep from snarling and kicking that thirty-foot, low-chaired counter into its constituent plastic parts. All of the delays and stupid little problems were starting to give me bad vibes about that assignment, and I had to firmly remind myself that imagination didn’t usually affect an assignment one way or the other. If it was handled right it came out right, and vibes had nothing to do with it.

After the reservations desk, Val took me shopping. As soon as I saw the shop-front I knew he’d been checking Station listings again, and any hopes I’d had about the experience turning out bearable went right down the tubes. The place was called “Pretty Little Miss,” and I immediately regretted all the breakfast I’d eaten; nausea does not sit well on top of a full stomach.

“If you keep hanging back, people will start to ‘notice,” Val muttered at me in the trade language that was our secret code, glancing at the passersby who were passing us where we stood in the corridor, just outside the shop. “Get inside, and right now.”

I glanced up to see that no-arguments look in his eyes, sighed in defeat, then went ahead and pushed through the door into the shop, he coming along right behind me. I heard nothing in the way of a gasp out of him once we had crossed the threshold, but that was likely due to the way he was consciously refraining from reacting to things that were new to him but usual to everyone else. The shop’s decor was one, huge vu-cast window, wrap-around without sharp corners, the door we had entered by the only break in an otherwise perfect little glade. The sun shone down through the overhead leaves, nicely bright but not glaring, the “fresh” canned air was- full of woodsy perfume, and the carpeting under our feet was make-believe grass. Once the door had closed behind us we could hear faint but cheerful birdsong. faint stirrings of the “foliage” around us working hard to add to the overall attempt at true outdoors. It was impossible to tell what planet the scene had been recorded on despite the vaguely green sky, but one thing was as clear as the gently flowered projection around us: if we bought anything in that place, we’d pay through the nose.

“Good morning, and may I help you?” came a pleasant, throaty female voice, causing us to turn toward one of the larger “trees” in our vicinity. There was a barely noticeable hesitation where that tree fit in with the rest of the scenery, and that had to be where the woman had come from. In her late twenties or early thirties, she stood in front of the tree with her hands clasped in front of her, the half-skirt, halfpants outfit she wore showing her excellent taste, her really beautiful face smiling in sincere greeting. My partner-who was having such trouble getting interested in other women-stirred in interest as soon as those black eyes touched her, and I had to swallow down a laugh of true amusement.

“I’d like to see some appropriate outfits for my niece,” Val answered easily with a smile of his own for the woman, an action which caused her to shift her stance immediately from neutral yet friendly to posing and interested, with the woman most likely unaware that she’d done it.

“May I ask what you mean by appropriate, sir?” she said, coming forward to stand closer to us. “Do you have a specific occasion in mind?”

“I have all occasions in mind,” Val said, gesturing slightly in my direction. “My sister let her do her own clothes shopping, and everything she has is years too old for her. I’m more than tired of having to tell every other man who looks at her how old she really is, so I’m here to see if I can get some clothing to do the telling for me. Do you think you can help me?”

“I’m sure of it, sir,” she said, then gave me a professionally estimating up-and-down.

“If that jumpsuit is indicative of the rest of her wardrobe, I’m afraid you’re right,” she told Val without looking at him, a very attractive frown making up her stare at me. “It’s of excellent quality and shows very good taste, but despite the way it fits it’s obviously too old for her. How old is she?”

“Not yet seventeen,” Val answered, making sure not even to glance in my direction.

“My goodness,” the woman said with a startled blink, looking at me considerably more closely. “Her height and degree of development are really misleading, aren’t they’? Not to mention that long red hair.

Well, I’m sure we can achieve the effect you’re looking for, sir. Do you have any style preferences in mind, dear?”

“Sure I do,” I answered, both awed and stunned that I’d finally been addressed. “My preferences run to what I already have. As far as I’m concerned, this is a complete waste of time,”

“Just ignore her,” Val advised the slightly embarrassed woman, sticking with the line we’d agreed on. I had no idea what current teen-age styles were, and wouldn’t have known even if I hadn’t just come back from an extended tour of the outer provinces, so to speak. That was one situation where Val could admit ignorance but I couldn’t, so we’d decided to finesse the problem.

“Just ignore her,” Val told the woman with another smile, one that unfortunately added to her fluster.

“Since she’s not prepared to cooperate in the slightest, we’ll have to make the choices for her. You’ll show me what you think is appropriate, and I’ll tell you whether it’s what I had in mind.”

“But, sir,” what if she won’t wear what you choose for her?” the woman objected. “Once the outfits are cut to her size, the shop won’t be able to take them back.
I-I
won’t be able to give you any sort of a refund.”

“Don’t worry about whether or not she’ll wear them,” Val said, then deliberately moved his eyes to me.

“She may not want to, but she’ll wear them.”

I made sure to drop my eyes at the look I was getting, carrying through with the sullen-and-rebellious-but-obedient bit we were pulling, but not before I saw the expression on the woman’s face. She’d actually flinched at the way Val was looking at me, and suddenly she wasn’t posing for him any longer.

“I’ll get seats for us, and then we can look at what’s available, sir,” she said, professionally. “Just a moment, please.”

She turned away from us with a nod of her head, and moved toward the tree she’d appeared near; once she had disappeared behind it, I looked over at Val.

“Pretend I’m complaining and trying to whine you into changing your mind,” I told him in the trade language, using the appropriate tone for what I was supposedly saying. “While you’re ignoring my protests, make a note somewhere to tone it down and keep it toned down. If that woman wasn’t too cultured and svelte to have hysterics, you would have had her cringing and sobbing against the wall.

Wishy-washy, weak-willed men like you aren’t supposed to be able to do that to women. ”

“Damn it, you’re right,” he growled, then immediately changed his tone to what might be described as firm petulance. “While I’m telling you that you’d better obey me and cut out the nonsense, I’ll also tell you that the slip is mainly your fault. You’ve ignored me for so long now, I’ve almost forgotten how other women react to me. If you don’t show proper fear every now and again, how am I supposed to remember?”

“Very funny,” I answered with proper sullenness instead, then stamped my foot and turned my back on him. “I’ll remember to scream later. Meanwhile, get that amused look out of your eyes. You’re not supposed to be having that much fun. ”

He grunted in a non-committal way that could have been an uncaring dismissal of whatever threat his little niece had thrown at him, and then we waited in silence until the woman came back. When she did she was followed by a brawny type swinging in two cloud chairs, and she herself carried a small, padded stool. In another minute or so we were all comfortably seated-with the woman’s stool next to my chair-and then the fashion show began.

When it was all over and we’d left the shop, I was tempted to start feeling depressed again. The woman had advised Val and he’d made his selections, but I was ready to swear that the age they’d been trying for was more like ten or eleven than seventeen. The choices Val had made were absolutely ridiculous, and I was only waiting to get back to our suite before I told him what to do with them-which did not include any wearing.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” said an abrupt, apologetic voice just as we were jostled a little from behind.

“The fault is entirely mine, and I hope you’ll- Well, hello there again.”

After the first three or four words I hadn’t needed to look around to know who it was, but I still joined Val in turning toward the one who had “accidentally” jostled us. John Little stood there with an urbane smile on his face, oozing friendliness toward Val-but with the faintest hint of wariness in his eyes. It looked like he was prepared to cut and run if Val took offense, but my partner wasn’t taking anything but his medicine-like a good little scout.

“Mr.-Little, wasn’t it?” Val said with a friendly smile of his own-and his own hint of wariness-as he extended his hand. “How are you this morning?”

“Just fine, Mr. Carter, just fine.” Little beamed, flinching only a little over the handshake. “It’s good to finally run into a friendly face on a strange Station-and please do accept my apologies for having done that in the most literal sense. Have you breakfasted yet?”

“Yes, we have,” Val said, still sticking with open and friendly. “We’ve just finished some shopping for my niece here, and were heading back to our suite. By the way, this is my niece, Jennifer Kent. Jennifer, Mr. John Little.”