Chapter 29
The two trishaws returned.
Mendoza got out of the leading one, walked past Grimes and Su Lin to where the huddled form of the dead maniac was sprawled face down, the hilt of his knife protruding from his back. Two of the overseers were squatting by the corpse, talking in low voices. The manager went to them, was obviously questioning the men. He returned to the governor and the girl. His expression, decided Grimes, was an odd combination of condemnation and disappointment.
He said, “This is a serious matter.”
“Too right it is,” said Grimes. Then, “And where were you when the shit hit the fan?”
“A man is dead, Your Excellency.”
“For all the help that you were, I could be dead too. As for your dead man—he is responsible for one death himself. Possibly two.”
“But this is a serious matter. Your Excellency. This woman may be your servant but she is a native of this world—and not a citizen. Only citizens may carry weapons.”
“Only citizens, Mr. Mendoza?” Grimes gestured toward the dead man. “Was he a citizen? What about his knife?”
“A working tool, Commodore.”
“And a murder weapon.”
Mendoza ignored this.
He said to Su Lin, “Give me your flame-thrower, girl. It will have to be produced as evidence when you are brought to trial.”
Grimes thought hard and fast.
He said, “It is not hers to give to you, Mr. Mendoza.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is my lighter. During my career as commodore of a privateer flotilla I found it convenient to carry on my person gadgets such as that lighter—seemingly innocent but capable of being used in self defense . . .” While he was speaking he was filling his pipe. “I had to use it once,” he went on untruthfully, “to quell a mutiny . . .”
“Then what is she doing with it?”
By this time the bit of Grimes’s pipe was between his teeth. Su Lin lit it for him, using a flame of normal dimensions and intensity.
“You see what she’s doing with it,” Grimes said through a cloud of acrid smoke. “She regards this as part of her duties.”
“Like stabbing a blinded man in the back, Your Excellency.”
“He would not have lived,” said Su Lin. “Not only was he blinded but his brains were fried.”
“This is a matter for Mr. Lopez,” said Mendoza stiffly.
“Naturally,” agreed Grimes. “After all, it was one of his employees—or slaves—who would have murdered me had it not been for Su Lin.”
“It was one of his employees who was murdered by your servant. Your Excellency. At the very least there will be a heavy claim for compensation.”
“Quite possibly,” said Grimes. “I shall have to look into the legal aspects. I am not as young as I was and being attacked by homicidal maniacs puts a severe strain upon my nervous system. It is likely that I shall require the services of an expensive psychiatrist to undo the mental damage that I sustained.” He drew deeply from his pipe and then exhaled the smoke. “But no doubt Mr. Lopez is rich enough to pay both the doctor’s bill and the damages that I shall demand.”
“Your Excellency,” almost sneered Mendoza, “is quite a space lawyer.”
“As far as this planet is concerned,” growled Grimes, “I am the law—and the prophets. The members of my personal staff answer only to me, and don’t go forgetting it. Come, Su Lin, we will share a trishaw back to Mr. Lopez’s not so humble abode. Mr. Mendoza can do as he pleases.”
The two of them clambered aboard one of the waiting vehicles.
“Home, James,” ordered Grimes, “and don’t spare the horses.”
To his surprise the man understood. It was a pity as it meant that he and the girl were not able to compare notes during the ride back to the Lopez establishment.
Understandably Mr. Lopez was not pleased when he heard Grimes’s story. He would have been far happier. Grimes could not help thinking, if Mendoza had returned alone with the news of the murder of yet another troublesome planetary governor. And yet, Grimes knew, the messy affair had not been planned. How could it have been? But Mendoza had been quite prepared to let nature take its course and would have been commended rather than otherwise if Grimes had been hacked to pieces.
“A sorry business, Your Excellency,” sighed Lopez.
“It could have been sorrier still as far as I’m concerned,” said Grimes coldly. And then—he might as well put the boot in while he had the chance—”I was far from impressed by the conduct of your Mr. Mendoza. Any officer of the Survey Service behaving as he did would face a court martial on the charge of cowardice in the face of the enemy.”
“My trishaw driver bolted,” Mendoza said.
“So did Su Lin’s. But she managed to jump out and run back to help me.”
“Ah, yes,” murmured Lopez, “there is the matter of the weapon that she was carrying, quite illegally.”
“Not a weapon,” Grimes told him. “A lighter. My lighter.”
“A very special sort of lighter,” insisted Lopez.
“Anything can be used as a weapon,” said Grimes. “You should see what the average petty officer instructor in the Survey Service, a specialist in unarmed combat, can do with a rolled-up newspaper. And when I was privateering one of my officers could do quite dreadful damage with a pack of playing cards.”
“You realize. Your Excellency,” persisted Lopez, “that I shall be obliged to make a full report to President O’Higgins’s chief of police and to Colonel Bardon.”
“Report away, Mr. Lopez. I am Colonel Bardon’s superior officer. And, legally speaking, I rank above the president. As far as I am concerned my servant took steps, effective steps, to save my life while yours, Mr. Mendoza, was rattling down the road as fast as his trishaw could carry him.”
“The driver panicked!” almost shouted Mendoza.
“That’s your story. Stick to it, if you feel like it. I could hardly care less.”
There was what seemed to be a long silence, broken at last by Lopez.
“Well, Your Excellency, what has been done has been done. I suppose that now you will wish to return aboard your airship to freshen up before joining Madam Lopez and myself for dinner. . . .”
“I shall return aboard my airship,” said Grimes, “and then I shall order my pilot to cast off.”
“But I have instructed my chef to prepare a meal, a very special meal, for the occasion of your visit.”
“You’ll just have to eat it yourself. Come, Su Lin.”
The butler escorted them from the oriental opulence of Lopez’s reception room up to the roof. Grimes regretted having missed what probably would have been a superb curry. But, he consoled himself, there might have been some subtle poison in the portions served to him, or, possibly, a stiff infusion of dreamweed essence.
He was relieved when he emerged into the late afternoon sunlight, looking up to the gleaming bulk of Fat Susie swinging at the mast. Sanchez looked out from an open control cab window and waved cheerfully. Grimes raised a hand to return the salutation.
Now there would be that blasted ladder to negotiate. The wrenched muscles of his right leg were still painful and he could move the limb only by making a conscious effort.
“Your Excellency,” said Su Lin, “I will ask Captain Sanchez to send down a cradle for you.”
“You will not.”
Slowly, painfully, he went up the ladder, taking as much weight as possible on his arms, Su Lin close behind him. He clambered at last into the control cab.
“What’s wrong. Commodore?” asked Sanchez anxiously.
“Just a twisted leg, Raoul. It could have been worse.”
“Very much worse,” said the girl.
“But what happened?”
“I’ll tell you later. Meanwhile, get us the hell out of here.”
“The mooring mast is not manned, sir.”
“You can actuate your release gear from the cab, can’t you? As long as nothing fouls it’s quite safe.”
Sanchez did as ordered and Fat Susie drifted slowly astern, away from the roof of the Sanchez mansion, a winch whining as the short length of wire cable was reeled in. Only Ram Das, the butler, was there to see them go.
“You must rest now, Your Excellency,” said Su Lin.
“All right.”
“Where do we go, Commodore?” asked Sanchez.
“I’ll leave it to you, Raoul. Surprise me.”
Walking slowly and painfully he made his way aft to his quarters.