“We did.”
“But why?”
“He was our friend.”
Easly was getting annoyed. “But why did you kill a man who was your friend?”
“He was different.”
“How was he different?”
The Vanek shrugged. “Wheels within wheels, bendreth.”
“But why did you kill him?”
“He was our friend.”
“Oh, hell!” Easly muttered, rising and dusting off his knees. He realized he was wasting his time and turned away without giving alms. Damned if I’ll give them a cent.
How could you figure a bunch of alien half-breeds who kill the man who’s trying to help them, and then make a shrine out of the place where they murdered him?
He growled to himself and headed for his flitter. He had an appointment with Elson deBloise himself later in the afternoon and he didn’t want to be late. His favorite and most successful cover-that of an author researching a book-had paid off again. DeBloise was no different from any other public figure.
he couldn’t pass up the chance of having his name used as a source.
He spent most of the early afternoon going over his plan of attack. He expected to get little information from deBloise but at least he’d be able to size the man up in person. Larry Easly’s job was people and he could get a lot out of a personal conversation, even if the subject was the weather. And Josephine Finch wanted to know about deBloise and what he knew about her father.
He arrived at the plush home planet offices of the Sector Representative a little early and sat eying the receptionist until it was time for his appointment.
Elson deBloise gave him a warm greeting. “Well, Mr. Easly, what do you think of our fine planet?”
He was a big, puffy-looking man, but Easly immediately sensed a core of steel.
“Very nice,” Easly lied as he took the indicated seat.
“I understand you’re doing a book about Joe Finch, Jr.”
Easly nodded. “I was hoping I could get a personal glimpse of the man from your viewpoint.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t know him at all, never met him.”
“But that was quite an impassioned speech you made about him on behalf of the Integration Bill.”
“I didn’t have to know him to say what I did,” deBloise replied with a faint smile. “I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to bring equality to those less fortunate and he was trying to give the Vaneks a little dignity. He was going out on a limb for his fellow man. I understood him perfectly and I’m willing to bet that if he were alive today he’d be very active in the Restructurist Movement.”
Easly doubted that very much but kept his opinion to himself. “What about that Integration Bill, Mr.
deBloise? Would it have passed without Mr. Finch’s death?”
“Definitely-not with such resounding unanimity, of course, but it would have passed. That bill, by the way, was pending before he even arrived on Jebinose. I was its main sponsor.”
“And on the reputation you earned with that bill, you went on to successfully run for Planet Rep to the Federation, isn’t that correct?”
DeBloise paused and scrutinized his interviewer. “Is this book about me, or about Finch?”
“It’s about Finch, of course,” Easly said, flashing the most disarming smile in his repertoire. “But I want to get into the long-range effects of his stay and consequent demise on Jebinose.”
“Of course,” deBloise said, somewhat mollified. He had the distinct feeling of being under a microscope. This writer, Easly, had a manner about him which deBloise did not like. He’d have to run a check on the man.
The intercom buzzed and deBloise accepted the call with some annoyance. “I said I wasn’t to be disturbed during the next few minutes!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the receptionist, “but Mr. Proska is here and wishes to see you.”
The casual observer would have noticed nothing, but Larry Easly’s attention became riveted on deBloise.
At the mention of the name “Proska,” every muscle in deBloise’s body had stiffened and there was the slightest blanching of the skin, the slightest tightening of the mouth. The man’s body was transmitting fear, acute fear. His voice, however, was calm when he spoke.
“Tell him I’ll be with him in a moment.” He released the button and turned to Easly. “I’m sorry, but some urgent business has just come up and I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this interview short. I’m leaving for Fed Central tonight but I should be back in a few weeks; please make another appointment with my secretary.”
Easly said he’d be sure to do so. As he reentered the waiting room, he saw only one occupant besides the receptionist. A small, sallow, balding man sat with his hands on his knees. Easly was about to classify him as a timid nonentity until he caught a look at the man’s eyes. There was not a hint of timidity or even mercy to be found there. This was no doubt the Mr. Proska who struck such fear into the heart of Elson deBloise, powerful, secure, influential Elson deBloise. Mr. Proska must have some sort of hold over deBloise, something that terrified the man. Larry Easly suddenly became very interested in finding out just what it was. He started with the records at the Planet Center.
When the human race broke its Earth-shackles and reached out for new stars and the virgin planets that circled them, its fertility apparently trebled and its numbers grew in a geometrical progression. With interplanetary travel commonplace and interstellar travel a routine, planet-hopping became the rule rather than the exception and it was virtually impossible for one individual to find another. The problem was easily solved with the introduction of planetary record centers. Vital, identifiable statistics of all natives were kept on record, usually in a place near the major spaceport. Data such as date of birth, parents, education, employment record, present location and so on were kept in a file open to the public. Some people grumbled about the records as an invasion of privacy, but most realized that with billions upon billions of humans strewn about the galaxy, they were necessary.
It was to these files that Easly hurried as soon as he was out of the deBloise office complex. It was a slim chance, but Proska just might have been born on Jebinose. If so, Easly would at least have a starting point. In the Planet Center, he found a free computer station and punched in Proska’s name. There were only two people on record with that name. The first was deceased; the second had been born forty-four years before and still resided on the planet.
That was the one-at least the age was right. Easly checked down the list and noted that Cando Proska had attended the Jebinose psi school as a boy but had dropped out at the age of ten. That in itself was strange because people with psi talents are always in demand; even those with the most mediocre abilities are assured a good income for the rest of their lives. Proska must have talent or else he would never have been admitted to the school. Why did he drop out? He had held a routine office job until about fifteen years ago when he quit. No employment since then. Also strange.
That was the end of the record. Not much information, but Easly felt somewhat satisfied. Something had clicked in the back of his mind as he reviewed the information; he couldn’t place it right now-his mind often made correlations without immediately informing him-but he knew from experience not to push it. Sooner or later it would come to the surface.
He decided to take a look at Proska’s home and wrote down the address. It was a nice day so he rented an open flitter and punched in the address. To his surprise, the flitter took him to the outskirts of the city and into the center of an exclusive well-to-do neighborhood. It hovered over a large home of elaborate design and a red light flashed a warning that clearance was required from below before it could land. Easly took a closer look at the grounds and his trained eye picked up traces of a very effective and very expensive protective system.