The Sam Gunn Omnibus (126 page)

The same woman opened the door to Satay’s suite and welcomed Jade in with
a bow and a sweeping gesture. Despite the fact that she wearing a perfectly
ordinary pants suit and hardly any jewelry at all, she looked exotic and
terribly beautiful to Jade. Must be the perfume, Jade told herself as she
followed the woman into a sumptuously furnished living room. A massive grand
piano stood in one corner, beneath a smart screen that showed a view of the
long-destroyed Taj Mahal.

“I am Indra,” the young woman said. “Mr. Satay’s daughter.”

Daughter? Jade immediately felt her face flush with emotion. But before
she could say a word, Malabar Singh Satay stepped into the room like a Mogul
emperor entering his throne chamber.

He was much taller than Jade had expected, his skin a dark, almost coppery
color. The turban adds to his height, she told herself. And the beard hides most
of his face.

“Ms. Inconnu,” said Satay in a low, gravely voice. He pressed his hands
together before his face and dipped his chin slightly. The voice analyzer in
Jade’s purse remained silent.

She bowed back, self-consciously. “Mr. Satay,” she murmured. She saw that
he was wearing white silk gloves. To protect his pianist’s hands, she thought.
And not leave any fingerprints.

Satay was much taller than Sam would be, Jade realized. Tall and slim and
somehow elegant-looking in a thigh-length brocaded jacket with a high, tight
collar. He gestured Jade to the striped couch in the middle of the big room,
then perched straight-backed on the facing armchair. Indra moved silently
behind Jade; she couldn’t tell if the woman had taken a chair or left the room
altogether.

“I am so very glad you asked for this interview,” Satay said. “It is
always a pleasure to be interviewed by the news media, yes indeed. I am afraid
that I am something of an egotist. It must very likely be an essential part of
a concert pianist’s personality.”

Fumbling for an idea, Jade stammered, “It... it’s not often that
we ...
the
people of Selene, that
is ...
we don’t get many distinguished musicians visiting
us.”

He seemed to smile. With
the beard and luxuriant mustache, it was difficult to tell.

“Oh my goodness, not at
all. On the contrary, Ms. Inconnu, Selene has a very illustrious symphony
orchestra. Indeed, many of the finest musicians on Earth have come here to
retire and then extended their careers in the low gravity and relaxed social
atmosphere of your delightful community. I feel honored to be allowed to
perform with them, certainly I do.”

As they chatted on, Jade
became more and more convinced that this elegant man actually was who he
claimed to be, and not Sam Gunn in disguise. After nearly an hour of talking,
he got up and went to the piano, stripped off the silk gloves, and began to
play the languid opening bars of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” for Jade.

“Rather appropriate,
considering where we are,” he said over the music, “don’t you believe so?”

Jade had to agree. It wasn’t
until Satay had completed the piece with its stirring final movement that she
realized she was no closer to finding Sam than she had been before meeting the
pianist.

As the last notes faded
away, Jade sat on the sofa, too awed by the music to applaud.

“That’s ...
beautiful,” she breathed, knowing that her words were
terribly lame.

“Thank you so very much,”
Satay replied, without moving from the piano bench. He eyed her for a silent moment,
then asked, “Are you not the woman who narrated those illuminating biographical
shows about Sam Gunn?”

“Yes,” Jade said. “I am.”

“They were magnificent,
truly,” said Satay. “You captured such a complex personality so well, so
faithfully. A magnificent achievement.”

It was Jade’s turn to
say, “Thank you.”

“You must know him very
well, very well indeed.”

“Actually, I’ve never met
him.”

“Never met him?” Satay’s
bushy brows rose almost to the edge of his turban.

“No. Never.”

“Would you like to?”

Jade felt her pulse
quicken. “Yes! Of course!”

“He’s coming here this
evening,” Satay said. Then, his face darkening, he added, “He has been courting
my daughter.”

“Sam?” “Sam”

Jade turned and saw that
I
ndra was not in the room. She had left
her father alone with her.

Slowly, she asked, “When
you say ‘courting,’ do you mean that Sam has proposed marriage to your
daughter?”

His face darkening even
more, Satay replied, “Not a word about marriage, not one syllable.”

Jade nodded.

“The man is notorious,”
Satay growled.

“Yes, he is.”

“My daughter seems
infatuated with him.”

“Sam can be
very...
infatuating.”

His bearded face broke
into a fierce smile. “I have it! Why don’t you join us for dinner? We will make
a foursome of the evening.”

Her heart thundering,
Jade said, “I’d love to.”

JADE SCOOTED TO
her meager apartment and changed into her best evening
wear: a simple sleeveless black frock adorned with a pearl necklace and
earrings. Trying to calm the excited pounding of her pulse, she made her way back
to the hotel and Satay’s suite.

The pianist was wearing
a splendid gold brocade jacket that made Jade feel shabby. Indra was dressed in
a silk sari of deep rose interwoven with glittering silver threads.

Sam was not there.

“He is late,” Satay murmured
as his daughter poured iced tea for them.

“He’ll be here,” said
Indra as she handed Jade a tall frosted glass. “He must be very careful, you
know.”

“Careful?” Jade asked.

Indra nodded. “Unscrupulous
people are searching for him. They want to—”

The doorbell chimed.
Indra fairly flew to the front door, her sari flapping. Jade saw that her
father looked grim.

Indra opened the door
and in he stepped. Sam Gunn.

He’s an elf! she
thought. Jade saw that Sam barely stood as tall as Satay’s shoulder. Even Indra
was a few centimeters taller than he. He was smiling widely at her, a gap-toothed
grin that looked slightly lopsided. His face was round and freckled, his nose a
button. His brick-red hair was neatly combed, except for a couple of cowlicks
sprouting from the back of his head.

My hair’s a little
lighter in color than Sam’s, Jade thought. And my face is very different. But
we’re almost exactly the same height.

Sam kissed Indra’s hand
as he entered the spacious room; she smiled beamingly at him. He clasped his
hands in front of his face and bowed politely to Satay, who bowed back, stone-faced.

Then Sam turned and
seemed to realize for the first time that there was one other person in the
room.

He looked at Jade,
blinked, then said, “Hey, I know you.”

Jade said nothing. She
couldn’t. Her throat was so constricted that not a word could come out.

Walking toward her
across the thickly luxuriant carpeting, Sam said, “You’re the kid who hosted
those bioshows about me. Jane something, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Gunn,” Satay
intervened, “may I present Ms. Jane Avril Inconnu.”

“She not only narrated
your shows, Sam,” lndra added, “she produced them.”

Sam stepped up to Jade.
We’re
exactly
the same height, she told
herself.

With a grin, Sam said, “You’re
a natural redhead, like me. Not many of us around.”

“You have to have the
right genes,” Jade heard herself say.

Satay announced, “I have
dinner laid on here. I know how much you want to avoid being seen in public.”

It seemed to take an
effort for Sam to take his eyes away from Jade. “Yeah, right,” he said
absently. “Too many prying eyes out there.”

Indra hooked her arm
around Sam
’s
and guided him toward the dining room. Following
them, Jade took Satay’s proffered arm.

“Why are you afraid of
prying eyes?” Jade asked as they took their seats around the square
glass-topped dining table. A pair of squat, silvery robots stood along one
wall, glasses and pitchers on their flat tops.

“Yes,” said Indra. “You
told me that all those lawsuits against you have been dropped.” She was seated
across the table from Jade, and the two men faced each other.

“I’m involved in a
pretty delicate business,” Sam said as one of the robots rolled up beside him.
He took a water glass, then asked Indra what she wanted.

“A martini, please,”
Indra replied. Satay asked for a double.

“And you?” he asked
Jade.

“Is there any wine?”

The robot’s synthesized
voice replied, “There is an excellent Sancerre in my cooler, ma’am.”

Sam opened the insulated
door in the robot’s chest and pulled out a green-tinted bottle. “From France,”
he murmured appreciatively.

Once they had all sipped
at their drinks, Jade asked again, “Why all the secrecy, Mr. Gunn?”

“Call me Sam.”

“Why all the secrecy,
Sam?”

He laughed; Jade thought
it was a trifle forced. “You’re a newshound, all right. A regular bloodhound.”

“Well?” Jade insisted.

Sam glanced at Satay,
then said, “I’m involved in negotiations to buy the Selene Philharmonic
Orchestra.”

“Buy the orchestra?”
Jade asked, surprised. “But you can’t! It’s owned by the people of Selene.”

“Not really,” Sam said.

“That is what I thought,
also,” Satay interjected. “I was led to believe that the Philharmonic is a municipal
organization, not privately owned.”

“It’s a little tricky,”
Sam started to explain. But when he looked at Jade he asked, “What do I call
you, anyway? Ms. Inconnu? Jane? What?”

“Mrs. Johansen,” Jade
answered. “You know my husband.”

“Spence?” Sam’s voice
jumped an octave. “You’re married to Spence Johansen? He’s here at Selene?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

Sam thought that over
for all of three seconds. Then, “Okay, but I can’t call you Mrs. Johansen: too
stuffy.”

“My friends call me
Jade.”

“Jade,” he repeated.
Indra cast a less-than-friendly glance at Jade, then touched Sam’s arm
possessively.

“Perhaps we should begin
our meal,” Satay suggested. “Before the robots become impatient.”

They all laughed
politely.

Throughout the dinner
Sam regaled them with tales of his adventures with Spencer Johansen, and Larry
Karsh, Elverda Apacheta, even his double who—he claimed—had returned to the
black hole out beyond the orbit of Pluto. On and on, Sam talked nonstop until
they had finished dessert and were sipping cognac from oversized snifters.

“I still don’t
understand about this orchestra business,” Jade said, trying to get back to the
subject she was interested in. “Why should you want to buy the Philharmonic?”

“Sam is a philanthropist
at heart,” Indra said.

“Really?”

Sam gave her a wry grin.
“It’s like this. Legally, the orchestra is owned by a consortium of Selene’s
citizens. Its revenues come from private donations—which are never enough to
cover its expenses. The difference is made up out of taxes and annual fund
drives.”

“So?”

“So I figured that if I owned
the orchestra I could foot its expenses, whatever they are, and spare the
citizens of Selene the annual begging campaign.”

“And the taxes,” Indra
added.

Sam nodded.

“But where would the money
come from?” Jade asked. “As I understand it you’re broke.”

Waggling a hand in the
air, Sam said, “Well, not exactly broke. I still get a trickle of money from my
share of the Hell Crater resort complex.”

“I thought you signed
all that away to Rockledge.”

With a grin, Sam
replied, “So did a certain silver-haired slimeball named Pierre D’Argent. But I
kept one percent. He was so glad to get his hands on the complex that he
overlooked that little piece of fine print.”

“One percent of the
gross,” Indra said, with a tiny giggle.

“Is that true?” asked
Jade.

He looked deeply into
her eyes before answering. “More or less,” he said at last.

Satay spoke up. “I must
say that it will be quite an experience for the orchestra to be under your management.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam
said absently, still staring at Jade. “You know, kid, you remind me of somebody
... but I can’t put a finger on who it is.”

Jean Margaux, Jade
replied silently, her insides trembling. But she said nothing.