“Unfortunately, Landry has set his long-range objective on more than just control of the Frequency Guild. He wants to move into politics. I think he plans to use the Guild resources as a power base to fund and operate his campaigns. He wants to become a senator.”
“Are you serious?”
“Entirely.”
“No Guild boss has ever been able to get elected to such a high office. I don’t think any Guild exec has ever gotten further than a position on a city council.”
Celinda’s smile was very cold. “Probably because by the time a man gets to a position of power within the Guild, he has acquired the kind of record that would not stand up to close scrutiny by the media. It would be like a mob boss deciding to run for public office. Too many dead bodies buried around town. Guild bosses usually have to be content to manipulate powerful men from behind the scenes.”
Davis told himself he was under no obligation to defend the Guilds. But, damn it, his ancestors had fought at the Last Battle of Cadence when Guild ghost hunters had been all that stood between the megalomaniac Vincent Lee Vance and his hordes of crazed followers. People tended to forget that the desperate, struggling colonies would have fallen under the tyrannical rule of an insane despot if it hadn’t been for the Guilds. Pride ran strong in his blood.
“I won’t deny that a certain amount of power brokering goes on in the Guilds,” he said. “But that’s true of the rest of society as well. People who have power tend to use it. Sort of goes with the territory. And it takes a certain degree of ruthlessness to get to the top of any organization. You don’t really believe that any of the city-state senators or the other members of the Federation Council, let alone the president and vice president, are as pure as untuned amber, do you?”
“Of course not, but they don’t usually come to the job with all the baggage that a Guild boss would bring to it. Even if a high-ranking Guild exec was a model of respectability, he’d still have to overcome the public image of Guild CEOs. Let’s be honest here. They have some long-standing PR problems.”
“Can’t argue that,” Davis admitted. “All right, so Benson Landry wants to become a senator.”
“Yes. And that’s why he came to me. To achieve his objectives, he needs to marry outside the Guild, preferably the daughter of a wealthy business family or someone from an elite political family. He requires an alliance that can help him build strong connections outside the Guild.”
“He wanted you to find him that perfect wife,” Davis concluded.
“Yes.”
“You told him no.”
She touched Araminta again, lightly. He was coming to recognize that small action.
“I tried to do it carefully,” Celinda said. “Professionally. I knew Landry was dangerous. I made it clear that I only worked on Covenant Marriages based on sound parapsych principles of personal compatibility, et cetera, et cetera. I told him that I did not believe that marriages based on political connections and financial issues stood much chance of achieving long-term happiness for either party.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he wasn’t interested in all that, quote, garbage, unquote, about happiness and that I could ignore the compatibility aspects. I was to concentrate on finding him a wife from a good, socially connected family, and he would take care of the rest. He even had a couple of names for me to start with.”
“Why didn’t he do his own courting, in that case?”
“He assumed, quite rightly, that most non-Guild families would discourage their daughters from marrying a Guild man, even one who was set to become the head of the organization.”
No surprise there, he thought. The social divisions between Guild and non-Guild weren’t as strong as they had been in the old days, but they still existed, especially in upper-class circles. Landry’s decision to try to marry into a socially prominent family outside the Guild was testimony to his determination to achieve his objectives.
“I think I see where this is going,” he said. “Landry figured that if the most exclusive matchmaker in Frequency City recommended a match between himself and one of the women on his list, the woman and her family might be willing to consider the match. Is that it?”
“Yes. I suspect he also planned to apply other kinds of pressure as well, once he had made his selection. The dirty little secret of most of the socially prominent families in Frequency or any other city is that chances are they’ve had some mutually beneficial dealings with the Guild in the past. A lot of them owe the Guild a favor or two. And just as the Guild always pays its debts, it has a reputation for collecting them as well.”
“Let’s not go into that again.” He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, holding on to his patience with an act of will. “All right, I’ve got the picture. You refused to accept Benson Landry as a client. What happened next?”
“He didn’t take being declined well.” Celinda’s fingertips tangled in Araminta’s scruffy fur. “I knew he was furious, but I hoped that, given his enormous ambition, he would focus on finding another way to achieve his objective.”
“But that wasn’t how it went down?”
“For a while I thought I was safe. He never came back to my office. Then, one evening I had an appointment that didn’t finish until quite late. After the client left, I stayed at the office for another hour, doing some paperwork. When I finally went downstairs, the garage was almost empty.”
She stopped talking. Davis glanced at her. She was staring straight ahead at the highway, her expression stark and frozen. Her hand was still on Araminta. The dust bunny was huddled very close on her shoulder.
“Go on,” he said quietly.
“I walked past a pillar.” There was no emotion at all in her voice now. “Landry leaped out and grabbed me from behind. He plunged a needle into my arm.”
Cold fire burned in Davis’s veins. He gripped the steering wheel so hard he wondered that it didn’t shatter in his hands.
“Bastard,” he said very softly.
“I tried to scream for help, but the stuff worked fast. Within seconds I was numb all over. I couldn’t even stand. But I didn’t go out. I realized later that he didn’t want me unconscious, just unable to move or speak. He put me in the trunk of his car. I’m claustrophobic. It was…a nightmare.”
He thought about the weeks he had spent at the Glenfield Institute. Been there, done that. He said nothing. He knew better than anyone that there wasn’t anything he could say to erase the trauma.
Araminta made a small, anxious sound.
Davis fought his freezing rage in silence.
“He carried me to that hotel room,” Celinda continued, still speaking without any trace of emotion in her voice. “He let everyone think I was drunk. When we were alone, he stripped off my clothes and pulled a nightgown over my head.”
He had to ask the question, had to know how bad it had been for her. “Did he rape you?”
“No.”
But an odd note had crept into her voice.
“He left me in the bed at the hotel. I later found out that he was due at a civic function that evening. He had to make an appearance there.”
“What about the photographers?”
“The drug Landry gave me had just started to wear off when he returned to the room. The first thing he did was pick up the phone and call someone. I heard him say, ‘Bring the champagne up now.’”
Again he detected the curious flattening in her voice. He was no psi-reader, but in his business he’d heard a lot of people tell a lot of lies. He usually recognized them when he heard them. She wasn’t exactly lying now, he decided. But he was certain that she was leaving out something important. Perhaps Landry had raped her, and she did not want to talk about it. He could understand and respect that.
“After he made the phone call, Landry changed into a bathrobe,” she continued. “I could move a little by then, but I kept very still, hoping he would think I was still immobile. I knew that my only chance was to shout for help when room service arrived.”