The Veils of Azlaroc by Fred Saberhagen

Author:Fred Saberhagen [Saberhagen, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

On the morning of V minus 15, Leodas Ditmars woke at the time he had set for himself the night before, and ordered breakfast in his room. When the machines had served him, he went to keep his appointment at Bellow’s suite. The agent opened the door for him almost at once, putting out a hand to keep Ditmars standing in the small elegant entry hall.

Bellow was perturbed about something. “Have you heard?” he asked Ditmars quickly, in a low voice.

“Heard what?” Taking what seemed to be his cue, Ditmars responded in a near-whisper. “No, I’ve heard nothing that would affect the job.”

Two of Bellow’s fingers were clutching as if unconsciously at Ditmars’ shirt. “It was in the regular news sheet this morning. Only a small item, not featured. A report of vandalism in the Old Cemetery last night, by persons unknown. It must be some of Ramachandra’s people.”

“They got the book?”

“No, no.” Bellow’s answer was reflexive, but then he blinked; he hadn’t really thought of that possibility before. “At least I don’t think they would have been concerned about the book, and there was nothing in the news sheet about it. No, what they did was haul away a massive statue, a memorial that Ramachandra had erected years ago, just opposite Milady Rosalys’ conditivium. The statue was on a plot leased by Ramachandra, so there was nothing my client could do about it at the time… I’ll bet Person Ramachandra used some massive bribery yesterday, and got the fence around the cemetery turned off long enough so that his people could get in there with an airlifter and out again.”

“No doubt it could have been managed that way.” Ditmars still spoke very quietly, though he didn’t know why. He was thinking that he didn’t want to get inadvertently into a position of opposing a man like Ramachandra. Not that Ditmars would always refuse to oppose the powerful, but first he wanted to be very well informed, and secondly very well paid. “But I wonder-”

“What?” Bellow whispered.

“Why should that statue have been taken just now? For that matter, why should Ramachandra want it back at all?”

Bellow silently gestured his inability to answer either question. Then he turned away, motioning Ditmars to follow him.

In the same room where Ditmars and Bellow had talked two days ago, one of the oldest-looking men that Ditmars had seen for several decades was sitting slouched in a deep chair. He made no move to rise as Ditmars entered. Ross Gabriel’s long face was savagely marked with lines that none of the pictures of eight years ago had shown. He was recognizable to Ditmars only because the professional thief had been expecting to meet the popoet here.

Gabriel’s long frame was curved down into the chair almost fetally. He was as still as a sleeper but his gray eyes were steady and wide awake when he lifted his blond-gray head to stare at Ditmars. The deliberately cultivated aging of the face-evidently now coming to be the preferred

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