Phule's Paradise (17 page)

     
A small smile crept onto her face.

     
She wondered what the captain would say if he knew that she and the others on housekeeping were using their passkeys and their training with lockpicks to search the guests' luggage for any clues of larcenous intent. He said he wanted information, and their standing orders had always been to use whatever was necessary to get the job done!

In the same lounge where the "incident" had taken place, another meeting was going on, though to the casual observer it would appear to be nothing more than a few friends relaxing over drinks. The mood of the gathering, however, was anything but relaxed.

     
"He's still a bit groggy," Stilman was saying, "but he swears he never even saw the guy start to swing. Now, Lobo may not be too quick upstairs, but he's been in enough fights to know what he's talking about, and he says this big guard is the fastest guy he's ever tangled with!"

     
He glanced fearfully out the open side of the lounge into the casino as if expecting to see the Legionnaire under discussion appear at any moment.

     
"I don't know," he concluded. "Maybe Lobo just picked the wrong guy to lean on. Maybe this alien type has faster reflexes than normal. Maybe ... I don't know."

     
"Maybe you just sent the wrong guy on the assignment," Laverna said. "Maybe you should have used somebody who could think as well as fight."

     
"Hey, stay out of this, Ice," Stilman snapped, turning his head slightly to glare at her. "You may know numbers, but I'm the expert when it comes to rough stuff. Remember?"

     
"Are you aware, Mr. Stilman, that though they are very intelligent, Voltrons have slower reflexes than humans?" Maxine said carefully, ignoring the byplay.

     
"Really?" The big man scowled. "Well, maybe Lobo tied onto one of their athletes or something."

     
Maxine sighed heavily. "Tell him, Laverna," she said.

     
"Listen up, Stilman," her companion said with a smirk. "The word we've got is that your man didn't get taken out by the guard. Word is, he got hit from behind by one of the cocktail waitresses."

     
"What?" Stilman didn't even try to hide his astonishment.

     
Maxine nodded. "That's right, Mr. Stilman. The account was quite detailed. Apparently she hit him with her tray." Her eyes took on a hard glitter, as did her voice. "The account also states that Lobo was engaged in hitting the guard at the time. Slapping him, actually."

     
Stilman shifted in his seat-a rare movement which betrayed the degree of his discomfort.

     
"Lobo didn't say anything about that when I talked to him," he declared. "I specifically told him not to throw the first punch."

     
"Well, I'll leave that to you," Maxine said, "though I rather think he's already paid a high enough price for the fiasco. Speaking of that, did you take care of his bill at the clinic?"

     
"Yes, I did," Stilman said hastily, glad to have something positive to report. "I told them to put it on your account."

     
"Good." Maxine nodded. "Incompetent or not, we have to take care of our own. In the meantime ..." She let her gaze wander out into the casino. "Let's move on to the other reason we're here ... why I chose this place for our meeting. I want to get a look at the cocktail waitress who was so effective at dealing with your man."

     
"With your handpicked man," Laverna added pointedly.

     
Stilman ignored her.

     
"What does she look like?" he said, sweeping the casino with his own eyes. "Do we have a description?"

     
"She shouldn't be too hard to spot," Laverna said. "She's supposed to be the smallest person on the staff. Guess she makes up for it by having such fast reflexes."

     
"Look, Ice," Stilman began, but Maxine cut him short with a gesture.

     
"I'm afraid we're going to have to postpone our search," she said, staring at something out in the casino. "I'm afraid we have a bigger problem to deal with."

     
"What is it, Maxie?" Laverna said, craning her neck to see.

     
"The oriental gentleman at the pai-gow table," Maxine clarified, not shifting her gaze.

     
Stilman frowned. "Which one?"

     
Pai-gow was a form of poker utilizing dominos and dice which originated in Old Earth Japan. While nearly every casino offered it in some form or other, most gamblers descended from Western cultures still found the play too intricate for comfort, so the tables were invariably filled by those who were raised gambling on the game.

     
"The one on the far end ... in the white shirt."

     
Stilman followed her eyes. "So?"

     
"Look at his arms," Maxine instructed.

     
The man's shirt was of very fine cotton, and his arms were clearly visible, though it took a moment to realize that it was his arms one was seeing. Adorning the arms, from shoulder to wrist, were colorful swirls of tattoos, so vivid that, to a casual glance, they almost seemed to be a paisley pattern on an undergarment.

     
Maxine knew that the significance of the decorations was not lost on her companions as they both reacted, Laverna with a low whistle and Stilman with a narrowing of the eyes.

     
"I think I'd like to speak with that gentleman," she said. "Could you invite him to join us, Mr. Stilman?"

     
"What .... now? Here?"

     
"Yes, now. But not here," Maxine said with a tight little smile. "We've taken a suite of rooms here at the Fat Chance. It's occurred to me that I should be a bit more closely involved in monitoring this project."

"Please ... have a seat," Maxine said to the slender, youthful Oriental as Stilman ushered him into the suite. "So nice of you to accept my invitation."

     
The man's face was impassive, but there was anger in his voice and movements.

     
"I wasn't aware I had a choice," he said, sinking into the offered chair.

     
Maxine raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

     
"Mr. Stilman," she said, "didn't you make it clear that I was extending an invitation to our guest?"

     
"I asked him nice," the big man growled. "I didn't lay a hand on him."

     
"Well, no matter," Maxine said. "As long as you're here. We were just admiring the tattoos on your arms."

     
The man glanced down quickly as if to assure himself that the decorations were still in place.

     
"I see," he said.

     
"They're very beautiful." Maxine smiled. "Might I ask the circumstances under which you got them?"

     
The Oriental rose abruptly to his feet.

     
"They are a personal matter," he hissed. "Not to be discussed with strangers."

     
"Sit down, sir!"

     
Maxine's voice cracked like a whip, and the man responded to the authority in her tone by quickly resuming his seat.

     
"Let's cut the crap, shall we?" Maxine purred, leaning forward to cradle her chin in one hand. "Unless I'm mistaken, those tattoos mark you as a member of the Yakusa ... something crudely referred to as the Japanese Mafia. If that is correct, I would be most curious as to what you're doing on Lorelei and why you haven't been by to pay your respects."

     
For a moment, the man's eyes widened with surprise, then they narrowed warily.

     
"Forgive me," he said with careful formality. "But these are thing one does not speak of with strangers."

     
"I'm sorry," Maxine said with a smile. "You don't seem to know who I am. I had assumed Mr. Stilman had informed you before you arrived. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Maxine Pruet, though you may have heard me referred to simply as 'Max.'"

     
The man stared at her for a moment, then seemed to remember himself and sprang to his feet.

     
"I didn't know. My superior did indeed instruct me to convey his compliments," he intoned with a stiff bow from the waist. "Forgive me, but I only received my orders recently, and they were very brief and sketchy. I thought ... that is, I wasn't told ..."

     
"-that I was a woman?" Maxine smiled. "I'm not surprised, really. Your organization is even more rooted in old chauvinisms than my own. It stands to reason that if my name came up in conversation, my gender would be tactfully omitted."

     
She returned his bow with a slow nod of her head. "And who might you be?"

     
"I ... my name within our organization is Jonesy."

     
"Jonesy?" Laverna blurted in surprise from her place in the corner.

     
The man glanced at her and gave a brief, rueful smile.

     
"I travel extensively for our organization," he explained, "and it was thought that the name 'Jonesy' would be easier for outsiders to pronounce and remember than the one which was more ethnically correct."

     
"An interesting theory," Maxine observed. "It does, however, bring us back to my original question. What brings you to Lorelei, Mr. Jonesy? Business or pleasure?"

     
"Please, just `Jonesy,'" the man corrected gently. "A little of both, actually. I was originally here for a vacation, but, as I mentioned, I recently received a call from my superior instructing me to investigate certain business opportunities for our organization."

     
"And just what might those business opportunities be?" Maxine pressed. "I don't mean to pry, Mr ... . Jonesy, but I would like some reassurance that they aren't in conflict with our own interests."

     
"I ..." Jonesy glanced at Stilman, who was standing between him and the door. "I was instructed to investigate the possibility of our organization acquiring full or partial ownership of this casino hotel."

     
His words hung in the air like a death sentence.

     
"I don't understand," Maxine said carefully. "There has always been a sort of gentleman's agreement between our organizations regarding territory. Why are you attempting to move into an area which has always been acknowledged as mine?"

     
"My superior told me to specifically assure you that we are not moving against you," the man explained hastily. "We will continue to respect your current holdings, and we will not compete with you for this property."

     
"Then what ..."

     
"Please, allow me to explain," Jonesy said, holding up a hand. "We are, of course, expecting you to attempt to gain control of this casino as you have the others on Lorelei. There has, however, been media coverage of a new security force hired to protect this facility. My superiors are impressed with the reputation of this force and the individual who leads it, and are unsure if your organization is capable of opposing it. I have simply been instructed to observe your efforts. If you are unsuccessful in adding the Fat Chance to your holdings, then my superiors feel they will be free to make an attempt of their own. In such a case, they feel they would not be opposing you in any way, but simply moving on an unclaimed opportunity. I hasten to repeat, however, that this will only be done if, and only if, your own efforts prove fruitless."

     
"I didn't know vultures were Japanese," Laverna observed dryly.

     
"That will do, Laverna," Maxine said primly. "If you would, Jonesy, the next time you speak with your superior, please convey to him my appreciation for his concern and his alertness in spotting an apparent business opportunity, but assure him that I have every confidence in our ability to maintain our unblemished record in this area, Space Legion or no."

     
"I will be pleased to do that," the man said with a shrug, "but words of confidence lose their strength in the face of actual performance."

     
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Maxine said. "Please, Jonesy. If you have something to say, just say it plainly. We're trying to have a meeting here, not write fortune cookies."

     
"I believe there was an incident in the bar involving one of your men," Jonesy said calmly. "At least, we assume he was one of your men, since his medical expenses are being charged to your account. If that is true, then the results of that encounter do little toward justifying the confidence you have in your plan."