And then?
She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure whether to send them to him or hand them over herself. After all, what if he'd forgotten her? What if there was someone else?
Titan receded slowly, the bulk of Saturn moving into the shot, dwarfing the tiny moon, the swirling striations of its northern hemisphere filling the screen. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. She let it run, knowing that whatever else happened, he, at least, would get to share this much of her experience.
So small our world is. Like a tiny speck of dust in a vast, echoing hall.
Slowly the image of Saturn shrank, slowly the darkness filled the screen. She shivered, frightened by the intensity of her feelings.
He had promised he would wait. Seven years, he'd said. Seven years.
There was a knock. She leaned forward and pressed HOLD, then turned to face the door.
"Come in!"
"Jelka?" Her father took a step into the room and looked about him. "Can you spare me a few moments?"
"Sure." She turned back, pressed SAVE, then blanked the screen. She could finish it later.
"How's Pauli?" she asked, going across to him and kissing his cheek.
Tolonen grinned. "Oh, he's fine. He's resting now. That new tutor of his makes him work. Sometimes I wonder if he's not a bit too hard on the child."
"He's a good child," she said, taking his arm and leading him out of the room. "And a bit of discipline won't harm him, will it? You forget how strict my tutors were with me."
"I guess so. But then, you were always a tough one. Headstrong too." He laughed. "Still are, I guess."
They went into his study. While he sat, she walked about the room, picking books from the shelves, then putting them back.
"So what is it?"
He looked up from his papers and grunted. "Just, er . . . a few details to sort out. For the party."
"Ah . . ." The invitation to Kim—that was what this was about. Steeling herself, she went across and sat, facing him across the desk.
"Here." He took a small pile of bright red envelopes from his tray and handed them to her. "You'd better check them before they go out."
She took them, nodding to him, but afraid to look.
"I was wondering about the music. I've booked the Chi L'ing Ensemble. I've been told they're very good. But maybe you feel they're a bit too . . . conventional."
She would have laughed but for the tension at the pit of her stomach. "It's all right," she answered, her voice small. "The Chi L'ing will be fine."
His smile was businesslike. "Good . . . then that's settled."
She stared at him, trying to read his face while her fingers sorted through the pile, counting the cards. Eleven. There were only eleven. But she had made twelve additions to the list. She wetted her lips, then spoke.
"There's one missing."
"Pardon?" He looked at her, then, understanding, gave a brief laugh. "Oh, I see. Yes . . . Old Joss Hawkins is dead, I'm afraid. Died a good eight, nine months back. I thought you'd heard."
She stared at him, mouth open, then looked down, flicking through the envelopes.
There! Six down. She stared at her father's handwriting on the envelope, surprised. Kim Ward it said, then gave his address at the SimFic labs. She looked up again. "I thought . . ."
"You thought?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"Good. Then let's look at the catering. I've been thinking that maybe we should change a few things. ..."
AFTER she'd GONE, Tolonen sat there deep in thought. It was just as he'd suspected. No ... as he'd feared. He had seen it in her face. He'd thought it finished with, but it wasn't. She was still obsessed with the Claybom—still determined on being with him.
He sighed, then sat back, steepling his fingers under his nose.
Rich or not, genius or not, it could not be countenanced. His daughter and a Clayborn. No, it was unthinkable. His family would be a laughingstock, his daughter's chances at a real marriage destroyed for all time. He had to do something. Defying her was no good—he knew that now. But there were other ways.
He sat forward and pulled his diary toward him, opening it at that day's entry. The card he had been given lay there where he'd left it. He picked it up and stared at it, then, grimacing, drew the comset across to him and tapped in the number.
It rang, once, twice, a third time. I'll try later, he thought, about to put it down, but then the signal changed and a voice answered him.
"Hello. Madam Peng here. Can I help you?"
He cleared his throat. "Madam Peng . . . it's Marshal Tolonen here. A friend of mine gave me your number. I—I have a problem I hope you can help me with."
KIM STEPPED FROM the sedan and looked about, taking in the breathtaking opulence of the place. The Mansion was a big three-story building in the Han style with sloping tiled roofs, but the gardens, too, were expansive, with a small river and an orchard on the far side of an ornamental bridge. Fake clouds drifted slowly across the blue of the ceiling fifty ch'i overhead, while the walls gave views of distant mountains. He had seen its like before, but he'd never thought to own such a place.
Reiss had called him just over an hour back and told him to go and see it. If he liked it it was his, whether he signed the new deal or not. If not, well, there would be others.
"Shih Ward?"
He turned as a middle-aged Han in dark green business silks strode toward him down the gravel path.
"I am Chang . . . Hugh Chang from Supernal Property." He bowed and shook Kim's hand at one and the same time, then turned, indicating the Mansion. "Beautiful, isn't it? It's rare for one of these really big Mansions to come on the market, but Director Reiss asked me to look out for something and notify him first. So here we are. I understand you're interested in acquiring something special."
Kim stared at the man a moment, irritated by his bullish, overfamiliar manner, then answered him.
"I haven't really thought about it."
"But I thought—"
"Just show me," he said, moving toward the house. "I want straight answers to my questions. And don't try to persuade me to buy it. If I like it, I like it. If not . . ."
He swept past Chang, imagining the look the man gave him behind his back, but right now he didn't care. It had been a bad day—a very bad day so far—and even this could not really lift his spirits. Losing Ravachol had been a body blow, and though he'd set to the task again at once, it was more to disguise his feeling of loss, of alienation from the task at hand, than to seriously solve the problems that had come up.
The truth was, he felt like giving it all up. He felt like calling Reiss back and saying no, keep your company, I want none of it. At the same time he recognized that it was only a passing mood, and that however bad he felt now he would feel better in a day or two. Well enough, perhaps, to start anew.
As he approached the huge double doors to the main house, two guards stepped forward to bar his way, then backed away hurriedly as Chang waved them aside.
"Security is tight, as you see," he said, coming alongside Kim as they went into the shadowy hallway. "There are six guard towers in the wall and special security barriers at both lifts—as you saw on the way in. We've recently installed a special electronic tracking system for the perimeter walls and emergency seal doors inside the house itself."
Kim glanced at him, surprised. "Is that normal?"
Chang shrugged. "You know how it is these days. No one's safe. Not even up this high. Not unless they've got all this stuff."
Kim stopped, turning to him. "And the people who owned this?"
"They took great precautions. In the eight years they were here there wasn't a single breach of security."
"So what happened to them? Did they get tired living like this? Or did they buy something even bigger?"