“Nils,” she said, smiling into the phone. “It’s been—what, three years?
Four?”
Nils Fredericksen, UN Secretary for Interstellar Commerce, smiled back at her. His blond hair had long ago evolved to gray, and his blue eyes twinkled out from a lean face as soft as well-oiled leather and as craggy as his native fjords. “Let’s not embarrass either of us by putting a number to it. Let’s just say it’s been too long and leave it at that. How have you been, my little princess? I hear you’ve established quite a business for yourself.”
“I’m happy with it. I’ve brokered works on over seventy different worlds already. Your Undersecretary for Literature can tell you I’ve done my share to fill Earth’s coffers.”
“I never doubted that for a second. I always knew you were the secret behind your father’s success. How is he coping with his retirement, by the way?”
“Enjoying his condo in Tel Aviv, going down to the beach every day. As he put it, ‘I have to beat off the women with a stick, and at my age the arm tires easily.’ ”
Frederickson laughed. “That’s Daniel. He loved your mother so much I don’t think any one woman will ever replace her.”
“Speaking of replacing, I’m sorry about Chien’s appointment. I know you were hoping for the top spot. You certainly earned it.”
“Thank you. I wish the Assembly agreed with you. They probably see me as a dinosaur from a bygone era and want new directions.”
“So what are your plans, Mr. Dinosaur?”
“I just may decide to retire, myself.”
“That’s hard to imagine. You’ve been plugging away up there longer than I’ve been alive. I was always sure you’d die in harness.”
“I almost did yesterday.”
Rabinowitz sat up straighter. “What happened?”
“I had to attend a Dikwanic opera. Strictly in the line of duty, of course.”
Rabinowitz laughed. “My God, talk about a fate worse than. I attended one in college—or tried to. It’s bad enough you have to sit rigidly at attention for five hours; then they make you listen to music so atonal it drives Chinese crazy. That’s more than humans should have to endure. Thank God I teeped to it; I could slip out of the rented body and come home to eat and use the bathroom.” She paused. “And the Dikwano wonder why they can’t sell the rights here on Earth.”
“So you understand, then, why retirement looks more and more attractive.”
“Well, you should certainly demand hazardous duty pay.”
Fredericksen’s face grew more serious. “I didn’t come here to talk about my troubles, princess. I came to warn you.”
“About what?”
“There is a very fanatical young Interpol detective named Hoy who may be bothering you—”
“Too late. He’s already been here.”
“I’m sorry. I’d hoped I could warn you in time. What did he talk about?”
“About a plot to sell some world domain properties on the black market.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve talked with his superiors. They tell me he’s something of a loose cannon, always going on about some crackpot conspiracy theories. He just charges out and harasses people, with little or no evidence that any crime has even been committed. Maybe he thinks if he flusters enough people, some guilt will shake loose.”
“Maybe something did shake loose,” Rabinowitz muttered half to herself.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you know Path-Reynik Levexitor from Jenithar?”
“I know of him. I’ve been to Jenithar a lot the last year or so, and he’s a very important personage there. In fact—” Fredericksen wrinkled his brow. “I saw his name in a report that crossed my desk this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”
“Let me save you the trouble. He’s dead. I was talking to him in his veer-space when it happened.”
“How horrible! Do the police have any idea who killed him?”
“They’ve arrested his clerk, but I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel right to me somehow.”
“If there’s one thing you should have learned by now, with all your diplomacy and all your studies, it’s to stay out of alien legal problems. They have their own ways of doing things that always seem bizarre to us. If they’re happy, let it go.”
“I know. I’m being a good little girl, honest.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you.” His voice grew more somber. “You mentioned Levexitor in connection with Detective Hoy. Was there some link between them?”
“He thought Levexitor was playing a pivotal role in the black market deal, yes.”
“There, you see, he loves to go after big names, important people, whether there’s any merit in his charges or not. He’s very clever at using innuendo. Be wary of him.”
“After all those years helping my father, do you think I can be fooled by innuendo?”
“Not the Deborah I know. Did he mention any other names?”
“Another literary broker named Peter Whitefish, and some other man I’ve never met.” She paused. “He didn’t mention your name.”
Fredericksen looked worried for a moment, then smiled. “You always were a shrewd young lady. Yes, he’s been harassing me, too—and he did mention your name to me, which was why I was calling to warn you.”
“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’m not a little girl any more. Unless Detective Hoy pulls his gun on me, I think I can handle him on my own.”
“I know. But I still worry.”
After Fredericksen signed off, Rabinowitz continued to stare at the blank screen. “Actually,” she muttered, “what Detective Hoy really wants to pull on me isn’t his gun.” She smiled sardonically. “But I can handle that, too.”
Rabinowitz spent most of the next day researching Jenithar’s inheritance laws. She had a deal almost entirely nailed down with Levexitor; now that he was dead, where did that leave her and her client? Did someone else take over the account? Did she have to start from scratch with someone new? Did Levexitor’s superior height mean no one could take his place, or would someone be elevated to fill the vacancy?
Late that afternoon she received a call from Jenithar. She half expected it to be the police again with more useless questions, but it turned out to be a stranger calling himself Raj-Pen Dewahl. “Ms. Rabinowitz, rumors of your fine stature have dazzled my senses,” he said. “If to you it is acceptable, I would beg permission to veer to your office.”
“Is this about the rights to the Tenger books?”
“It indeed is.”
“Then this is a happy coincidence. By all means, veer in.” Even as she spoke she was setting her controls to receive and entertain.
Her veer-space office was almost an exact duplicate of her parlor, complete to the books in the bookcases. She’d even gone to the trouble of loading the books into memory; the virtual books on the virtual shelves exactly matched their real-life counterparts. It was a small vanity, but she reveled in the detail.
Dewahl entered through the double doors. Rabinowitz’s image was seated; this was her home ground, so she made the rules. She knew better than to offer her guest a seat, however. He could sit or stand, as he chose.
Dewahl chose to stand. He was not nearly as tall as Levexitor and his plumage was still close to plebian brown, but he certainly had a thick coat of it. He was far more magnificently plumed than Levexitor had been.
“Highest Levexitor’s untimely death brought to all of us a great sense of loss,” he said. “However, it also brought to some an opportunity. While I by no means can match Highest Levexitor in stature, I am in a position to exercise the same rights for which he was negotiating.”