"Glad you mentioned that," Pat said. "I wastold that there'd be no rough stuff, that Corinnewas making a legal exit from the planet."
"The dictator fell in love with her," the mansaid. He shrugged. "Power-mad. We owe you a debt, Captain Howe, for getting our star safelyhome. If you'll take a closer look at that transfer you'll see."
A healthy bonus had been added. Hell, it was allover now, the hassle out there on that earthquaketortured planet. And in a month or six weeks, he'dbe coming back to Zede II to pick up a bride.
He spent the night in a spacers' hotel, luxuriating in a full-sized shower, good Zedeian food anddrink, and a huge circular bed in which he feltalmost lost but decidedly comfortable. For onebrief moment he was tempted to find company.All he had to do was dial the desk. But in a monthor six weeks he'd have all the company he needed—Corinne.
He kept his promise. He didn't call. He liftedship just after dawn and was soon back on Xanthos, traveling quickly down well-populated blink routes.Skimmerwas moved to a pad in the repair yards.Pat offloaded the gems, being especially carefulwith Murphy's leather bag. He locked the diamond,still in the leather bag, in his office safe, made anexcursion to the gem markets, and came back withhis bank account well fortified, for the price ofemeralds was up. It was time to show Murphy's Stone to a few selected people, but before he made the first call he opened the safe and took out Murphy's bag. His mind was telling him that the diamond couldn't be as large as he remembered it.
He put the bag on his desk, opened it, pulledaway the soiled velvet wrap, and froze in place.Where there should have been a huge, gleaminguncut diamond there was foil wrapping. He beganto jerk and tear at the foil and uncovered a mass ofsmall metal tools and parts obviously taken fromSkimmersstores. The metal, just over three pounds' worth, was encased in storage gel molded to matchthe shape of Murphy's Stone.
He was on the communicator within seconds. Ittook a few minutes to get through to Zede II. Hegave the Zede City operator Corinne's number,wondering what time it was on Zede II.
"I'm sorry, sir, the number you have given me isnot an operating number."
"Check again," he said.
There was not and had never been such a number in Zede City. The address she'd given him wasthat of a ground-car salesroom in Zede City's business section. He was a bit more than irate, for his anger was feeding on fear of loss, on a sense ofbetrayal, on a growing sadness to think that he'dlost her without even knowing why. He reachedthe number of the businessmen who had hiredhim to go out to Taratwo immediately and recognized the voice of the spokesman who had come toXanthos to hire him.
"Ah, Captain Howe. We've been expecting yourcall."
"I want to be put in touch with Corinne Tower,"he said.
"That is impossible now and it will be in anyconceivable future."
"Dammit," he began.
"Captain Howe," the smooth Zedeian voice said, "you were paid well to perform an errand. You didvery well. You came briefly into possession of anobject to which you have no claim. Nor do youhave any claim on Corinne Tower. Take your profit,Captain, and go about your business. If we everneed your services again, you can be sure we'll paywell, but, as the old saying goes, don't call us,we'll call you. And please, to save us all problems,do not try to contact Corinne Tower."
"I'll have to hear that from her," Pat said. "Youmay hold a film contract on her, but you don'tcontrol her private life."
"That, too, has been anticipated," the Zedeian said. "Listen."
"Pat," Corinne's voice said, full and throaty. "I'msorry it had to be this way. I told you I could nothave complications in my life. Don't try to call me or come to see me. As for a certain object, you'llrealize that you never had any right to it. That'sall. Thank you for an eventful journey home."
"Is that clear enough for you, Captain Howe?"the Zedeian asked.
"I was promised half the value of that object,"Pat said, not really caring about the money, or thediamond. He felt as if he'd been slugged in thebelly by a giant. He hurt. He wanted to throw thecommunicator out the window.
"Come now," the Zedeian laughed. "Grow up,Captain Howe." Pat hung up. "Ah, Corinne," he said. He'd go to Zede II and find her. She'd have totell him to his face. He was reaching for the communicator
to call the space port's passenger service when it sang out a summons to him. "Captain Audrey Patricia Howe?" "Don't call me Audrey Patricia," he growled,recognizing Jeanny Thompson's voice. "I'm using your title and full name because thisis an official call," Jeanny said. "You're in trouble,Pat." "What's up?" he asked. He wasn't concentrating. The reaction was setting in. Hell, he'd beencrazy to
think that the most beautiful woman inthe world could fall for him. "Pat, a very grim-faced officer from Xanthos Central is in my office at this moment. He has a copyof the route and travel tapes from yourSkimmerwith him." "Why?" Pat asked. It was routine for the computer to feed the travel information to Xanthos Central Control at the end of a trip. "Did the old man goof up?" Pat asked. "It's no computer goof, Pat," Jeanny said. "Youknow that it's against regulations to tamper withthe
automatic computer log which records theroutes traveled. Of course you do. So why the hell did you erase a portion of the tape, and very clumsily at that?" Gulp. "You're kidding." "Pat, you'd better get over here right away. Youknow this is a license-lifting offense. What the hellwere
you thinking about?"
"Why did Central come to you?" Pat asked, stalling for time as he tried to sort out his confused thoughts. He knew that he hadn't erased the routetape. "Because X&A is the enforcement agency, chum.It's up to us to see that dumbos who erase theroute
tape never take a ship into space again." "My God, Jeanny," he said. "You'd better get over here right away." "Yeah, sure. Look, I'd like to go by the ship,check this out myself." "You do that. But be in my office no later thanthree hours from now." "Yes, ma'am," Pat said. Maybe it was just the computer. The old manhad been ailing, cranky. He'd have a talk with that
gentleman, get to the bottom of it. But as he hurried out of his office a feeling of deep, agonizing depression hit him. What was the use? His worldhad been compressed into the twin green eyes of agirl.
So what if X&A grounded him? What did itmatter?
FOUR
A smart little flux-drive runabout with X&A marking sat directly in front of the pad on whichSkimmer squatted, her hull showing the dullness of a longtime in space, the thousand-parsec syndrome, itwas called. When Pat left his vehicle and walkedonto the pad a uniformed security guard blockedhis way to Skimmer's hatch.
"Sorry, friend," the security guard said. "Thiscrate has been impounded by X&A."
Jeanny Thompson's pert face appeared in theopen hatch. "It's all right, guard. Please let thegentleman
pass."
"You've already seized the ship?" Pat asked, as he followed Jeanny ontoSkimmer's bridge.
"No, final seizure will take court action. Meanwhile, we're just making sure that no one comesaboard
and destroys evidence."
"Jeanny, you know I didn't erase the tape," hesaid.
She turned to face him. "Someone did."
Corinne. He had been ill for days. Had she triedto use the computer? There were, of course, safeguards against erasing the trip log. It would takean intimate knowledge of computers or some accident against which the odds were astronomical totamper with that separate chamber in the old man'sstorage areas where the trip information was re corded.
"Well?" Jeanny demanded.
"Jeanny, let me talk to the old man for a fewminutes."
"I'm on your side," Jeanny said, "but I'm notabout to put myself in a sling, Pat. I'm going to belooking
over your shoulder. I see you trying totamper and I call the guard."
"OK, OK," he said testily, seating himself at theold man's console. He punched up the trip tapeand checked coordinates with his own handwrit ten log.