Deep Cover

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue

Geordie's Dreamland Cabaret had improved its reputation and clientele without entirely abandoning its nightclub heritage. The floorshow lost its inhibition only after hours, and the bar served nothing stronger than wine until the four-star chef left at midnight. It was the best restaurant called a cabaret in the Empire.

Para Follen laughed at the secretary joke Maretases told over the soup. "I know you're not a secretary," he said. "Thought you were at first, but I should have known better."

"Yes," she said. "Secretaries have much narrower eyes."

Maretases chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean, all right. At first I thought you were a night-alley strongarm."

"And now?"

She shrugged. "Most people in your profession would have taken the job right off. Yateef doesn't care how much it costs. You could have asked for open-end credit, and he'd agree. Write up a negative report in a month or two, and that's the end of it. But you didn't. You haven't said yes, and you haven't said no. That means you're careful. You have a conscience."

"Being careful and having a conscience are different things."

"Not when you're careful about morality."

Maretases smiled. "So I'm not a night-alley strongarm after all."

"I didn't say that."

"More wine?" Maretases poured. "It's a Kraasnel, they tell me. Not a real Kraasnel. Hasn't been a real Kraasnel in years."

"I know. It suits the fish well enough, though."

Maretases took a bite of the filet and nodded.

"Now, about Grendel," Para said.

"Did you know him? When he was here."

"Yes, I knew him. We entered University together." She grinned wryly. "Kept company for a while, but it didn't stick."

"And since he left?"

"We talk once a week. More, if he's onto something."

"Like what?"

"Oh, a well-articulated pre-industrial trade network, or an interesting marriage exchange system. Something to challenge convention with."

"Challenge convention?"

"Shake things up a little. If scientists don't shake things up every now and then, they're not doing science."

"So you and Grendel shook things up?"

Para Follen chuckled softly. "They almost lynched us at the Imperial Academy a couple years ago."

"Grendel was there?"

"No. Dr Yateef and I. We can't drag Grendel away from that planet."

"How involved is Dr Yateef in this shaking up?"

She waited for the fish dishes to be cleared away before answering. "He's got a big name. Without it, nobody would listen to us."

"Does he contribute anything but his name?"

"Oh, yes. Advice, suggestions, criticism -- without him we'd have made a million mistakes and been dismissed as lunatics years ago."

"Is that why his name still appears above yours on the papers?"

Para Follen watched the roast being served. She nibbled at the honeyed carrots and watched Maretases refill the wine glasses. "He's a valuable part of the team," she said slowly. "I think I'll have water with this course, if you don't mind. The wine doesn't suit."

"I'll get another." He raised his arm for the waiter, but she stopped him with a light touch on the elbow.

"No. Water's fine," she said. "Now, about Kalinor."

"Yes, the planet." Maretases paused. "Did you and Grendel shake things up often?"

She raised one shoulder. "I suppose."

"Yes?"

"Three in seven years, I'd say. I know that doesn't sound like much, but in a scientific field it's a lot. You can be immortal with one in a lifetime."

"And you have three."

"So far. None of them will make us immortal, but we'll be argued over for decades."

"Seven years? I thought Grendel went there four years ago."

"To stay, yes. We'd already been studying the place for three years. I went six years ago, came back, and then Grendel went."

Maretases nodded. "And didn't came back."

"Oh, no. He came back the first time. Long enough to write his will and say good-bye. As soon as he could, he was off again. That was four years ago."

"Do you think he wants to be found?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it sounds like he ran away, and true runaways don't want to be found."

"So your conscience won't let you take the case?"

"I didn't say. Do you think he ran away?"

She considered. "No. He was excited last time we spoke. Said he'd send data as soon as he was sure of them."

"So he was about to shake things up again?"

"Maybe." She carefully set down her fork. "Are you on the case or not?"

"Maybe." Maretases finished the last of his roast and pushed the plate aside. A waiter appeared to remove it. "If Grendel hasn't disappeared voluntarily, it's probably something to do with his work. What can you tell me about it?"

She arranged her knife and fork symmetrically across the plate, nudging them into position with small, fluid strokes. "What do you want to know?" The waiter reappeared and removed her plate.

"Yateef said something about magic. It strikes me as just a bit funny that he should be studying magic when he disappears."

She laughed. "This isn't stage magic, Mr Maretases."

"No card tricks, then."

"Ha ha. Did you look at the books I mentioned?"

"That's why I was late." He grinned. "A sure cure for insomnia."

She nodded, also grinning. "Academic style," she said. "It does get a bit thick if you're not used to it. Here's the short form. We've been studying societal control systems lately, and Kalinor has one transcending cultural boundaries. It involves magic. That is, it involves a system of mystical belief and practice. Grendel is studying with the leading practitioner, a man called Av Jesom."

"Would this practice involve anything dangerous?"

"Well, people used to be killed for it. That's why it's now confined to a secret society. There's nothing especially dangerous in the practice itself."

"It's like a cult?"

"More like a professional club or a guild," she said. "Nothing really sinister, but they don't want just anyone knowing who's in it."

"Would Grendel be in danger if they learned he was studying them in order to write a book?"

"I don't think they have anything to worry about." She looked up at him and widened her eyes. "Will you look into it?"

The waiter slipped salads in front of them and was gone. The house-lights dimmed as an unseen orchestra began a slow, soft tune. Maretases's eyes wandered across Para's shadowed face. Her earrings bobbed with the movement of her jaw; the dim light danced within them like lightning.

Maretases shook his head sharply. "Did you transfer that retainer we discussed?" he asked, speaking slowly but slurring the words.

"To the account you specified, yes. Are you all right?"

"Then I'm your boy for the next two days," he said. "I'll let you know after that."

"Why are you speaking so slowly?" she asked. "And what can you do in two days? It takes a week to get there."

"Background, my dear Professor Para Follen." He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they wandered idly for a moment before fixing on her left ear. "Basic research," he said, sinking toward his salad. "To see if the project will be up-thing-shake-able enough ..."

"Something's wrong," she said, half-rising and leaning across the table. "You look ill."

"Perhaps we should ... leave," he mumbled. "My time is yours and I have things to do." He stood up, leaning heavily on the table. His knees shook, but held. She offered her arm, and together they walked slowly to the foyer.

He pressed his head against the cool glass of the door while she paid the bill; then they stepped out into the night. He raised a hand to his eyes, as if the stars were too bright, unhindered by the lights of the distant city. She slipped an arm around him and led him to the car.

"I'd better drive," she said.

"Oh, yes. You'd better drive. Too many stars today."

"Where's the key?"

"Jacket pocket. Not that one. There it is. Key."

She opened the passenger's door and dumped him on the seat. He fell against the door as soon as she closed it. As she crossed in front of the car, one hand shot to her ear. She paused, then continued around to the driver's side. She opened the door, leaned in, and placed the key on the starter plate.

"I've lost an earring," she said. "Won't take a minute. You'll be all right till I get back?"

"All right."

He watched her through the windscreen, floating across the starlit parking lot toward the bright, glowing doorway of Geordie's Dreamland Cabaret. His eyes drifted shut.

He was still alone when they drifted open again. The stars cast a silver path from the car to Geordie's front door. He eased the door open and tumbled to the pavement. Using the car, he dragged himself upright, stamping each foot to give it purchase. When they were steady, he set out across the parking lot, staggering toward the glowing door.

The door opened before he was halfway there. Para Follen came out. She touched her ear, spoke to someone inside, turned, and saw him.

"Maretases, no!" she called. She ran a couple steps toward him, and called again. "Sit down! You'll never make it."

He smiled at her and waved, and the night exploded.

The blast threw him face first to the rough pavement. He rolled over, his face bright with the fireball rising ten meters above him. A second blast roared, and flaming bits of metal rained down around him. Twenty meters away, the blazing hulk that had been his car crackled, and the flames writhed madly in the night.