Hot Sleep Page 8

  “A metal plate under the wallcoat,” Jazz said. “How many volts, Arran?”

  “Enough,” Arran answered. “I wish it had fried you.”

  “Hit her once for me,” Noyock said. “Suddenly I’m not in love with her anymore.”

  “I’ll be glad to oblige you,” Jazz said, “in just about one second if Arran doesn’t tell me why Farl Baak wants me dead.”

  She shook her head. “I never heard of Farl Baak.”

  “Just because nobody looped it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Jazz said.

  “I didn’t know the drink was poisoned,” she said. Jazz slapped her hard, on the growing bruise at the bottom of her rib cage. She cried out, swung her arm to try to hit him, but was stopped by the pain. He slapped her again. She cried out again in pain, and tears flowed out the corners of her eyes, dribbling down into her ears and hair. These tears, Hop realized in surprise, were involuntary.

  “I don’t know why you’re persecuting me,” she said. Jazz only waited. “All right,” she said. “I know Farl Baak. But he didn’t want you dead. He had nothing to do—”

  Another slap, and this time the cry was louder, and she started to sob slightly afterward. Each sob took its toll in pain, and she stopped crying and only moaned. “Because,” she grunted in agony, “you’re in on the plot, you bastard.”

  “Plot?” Jazz asked.

  “To control the somec. To take control of the Sleeproom.”

  Jazz chuckled. “And so you had to kill me? How could I be a threat to you, sleeping in a ship off between the stars?”

  She shook her head slightly. “Too many of the wrong people were all timed to wake up when you arrived, Starpilot.” She spat out his title. “Farl put two and two together.”

  “Ah.”

  “And you control the fleets and the armies.

  That’s why we had to get rid of you before we acted against the others—”

  “Jazz is just a starpilot,” Hop said, wondering how such a sensible woman could believe such drivel.

  “Go touch the doorframe,” Jazz said. “Or shut up by yourself, Hop.”

  Hop shut up again.

  “It’s cold,” Arran said, and her teeth were chattering.

  Jazz looked at Hop, and Hop sighed. Jason was still stripped down for the duel, and only Hop’s expensive topjacket was available. He took it off, emptied the loop recorder and suppressor out of the pockets, and handed it to Jazz, who wrapped it gently around her.

  “Remind me never to trust a secret to her,” Hop said to Jazz. “She didn’t last very long under pressure.”

  Arran, despite the pain in her ribs, snarled back at him, “No one expected I’d have to deal with an animal.”

  Jason buttoned the jacket, and Hop noticed appreciatively that he had not bothered to put her arms into the sleeves—the coat would certainly keep her arms confined, if she should be tempted to try something. “The government,” Jazz said, “has tricks that make me look like a lamb.” Hop wondered vaguely what a lamb was.

  “There are different kinds of pain,” Arran said quietly. “Maybe you can take this kind without breaking. I’m sure of it.”

  “What kind of pain can you take?” Hop asked.

  “I can keep smiling when I want to kill. I can seduce a man I loathe. I can spend six months without a single moment of privacy, waking, sleeping, or going to the bathroom. I can endure lovers who feel only contempt for me and pretend that I love every minute of it.”

  Hop didn’t feel like making a clever answer, and Jazz patted her shoulder gently. “All right, and you held up pretty damned well when I was hitting you, too.”

  “What are you going to do with me now?” Arran asked.

  “Sit and watch you, I suppose, until suppertime,” Jazz said.

  “She needs a doctor,” Hop offered.

  Jason shook his head. “If we try to take her out of here now, she’ll need a mortician. Her whole flat’s probably full of troops, searching for her everywhere. If they find her, the law lets them kill her. She did try to poison one of Mother’s officers of the fleet.”

  “Does that mean we can never leave here?”

  “It means we’ll stay here awhile, Hop. Try to be patient. We’ll be through with this before your waking’s over. You won’t lose any sleep.”

  “And when we leave, what’ll we do? Report on this Farl Baak?”

  “Whom do you report a Cabinet minister to? God?”

  “What’ll we do, then?”

  “I want to find out what Baak is really up to. There is no somec plot, and I’m certainly not part of one even if there is. So there must be some reason all those wakings were timed to my arrival. I mean to find out.”

  “She was probably lying.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “You sound pretty sure of that.”

  “I plan to find out who’s behind the plot to kill me. And what his real reasons are. And then I’m going to kill the bastard.”

  “That’s the Jason Worthing I’ve known and loved,” Hop said.

  Hours later, Jason decided it was safe for him to go look for Arran’s private doctor. She told him how to get out, and to Hop’s surprise he believed her immediately. Apparently he was a better judge of people than Hop.

  The doctor confirmed that the rib was, indeed, broken. The shock was dangerous, the doctor said. They should have got immediate medical attention. Jason didn’t bother explaining that it would have been impractical, and so Hop also kept quiet. And not even Arran hinted as to how she had broken the rib, or what she was doing naked in a secret room. Either the doctor was very good at hiding his curiosity, or he had done all this before. He left without asking for a credit card, either. Hop decided he had to look into the idea of getting a private physician.

  Jason had picked up a full outfit of clothing for Arran. He had chosen from her wardrobe in the flat an outfit loose enough to fit over the bandages the doctor had told her she would have to wear for at least six hours until the growth hormone wore off. “Otherwise,” he had said, “you’ll have a very odd-shaped chest, which might hurt business.” Jason had also found a shirt and jacket that made his military pants look a little less like a uniform.

  And Hop got his topjacket back. “Well, dressed for the evening and nowhere to go,” he said.

  “Arran will tell us where to go,” Jazz said.

  “I don’t know any hiding places outside my flat.”

  “I don’t want a hiding place. I want you to take us to Farl Baak,” Jazz said.

  She gasped. “He’ll kill you.”

  “He doesn’t really care if I’m dead, Arran. He only wants to make sure I won’t interfere with him. But what if I’m on his side in this little rebellion?”

  She shook her head. “He won’t believe you.”

  “Maybe not. Let’s go see.”

  “I don’t want you dead.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?” Jason asked.

  Arran suddenly made her face ugly. The woman can look downright natural, Hop realized. “Because even a bitch like me is capable of realizing that you had every right to kill me and instead you saved my life.”

  “Only in order to get information from you,” Jazz said.

  “If that were true,” Arran answered, “I’d be dead now. You know how to get to Farl’s place. You don’t need me.”

  “I don’t want to go in the front door.”

  She sighed. “Now that my ribs are healing, I don’t want any interference with them. I’ll take you. But it’s none of my business what Farl does to you.”

  “Maybe it would be more to the point,” Hop suggested, “if you worried about what we might do to Farl.”

  She glanced coolly at Hop. “Farl isn’t a naked woman with a broken rib.”

  They walked out of the library and no one saw them. They walked down several ramps and corridors, and finally left Arran’s flat through the delivery entrance, and in all that time they didn’t see one soldier, one constable, or one
human being.

  “Why isn’t there a guard?” Hop asked.

  “Mother’s Little Boys are asleep on the job,” Jazz answered.

  “Jazz, I think this is about the stupidest thing I ever saw you do.”

  Jason looked at him expressionlessly. “No one’s making you come along.”

  Hop was surprised. “If no one’s making me come along, then why the hell am I coming?”

  “To protect your investment.”

  “Damn right.”

  Arran led them through a circuitous path of tubes, private cars, and corridors. Finally they found themselves ascending a long emergency stairway. After eight flights Hop suggested that they stop and rest.

  As they sat on the steps, Jason looked intently at Arran’s eyes. She gazed coldly back. Finally Jazz said, “You have one minute to tell me what’s really at the top of these stairs.”

  Arran pursed her lips, then got up and started back down the steps. Jazz followed, and Hop muttered as he brought up the rear, “How come you only broke one rib, Jazz?”

  They followed a different route and this time came to a very ordinary door labeled “Employees Only.”

  “I’m an employee,” Arran said, with a nasty smile. Inside the door was a ladder, which they climbed. They came out in a storage closet with no lights. Arran confidently pushed open a door. From outside the closet they heard a man’s voice say, “Who the hell—Arran, darling, I’ll have you roasted if you ever come here again without an appointment—”

  And then Farl Baak stopped talking because he saw Jason and Hop behind the woman.

  “Take your hand away from the call button,” Jazz said.

  “Good morning, Starpilot,” Baak said. “I must say, Arran, when you mess up an assignment it isn’t necessary to bring the target back with you.”

  “Just a word of warning, Mr. Baak. I’m not very heavily armed—” not armed at all, Hop refrained from saying “—but the computer on my ship is watching us, and the full record of this conversation will be recorded in four different places. You don’t pull the right strings to stop an investigation from finding you.”

  Baak pulled his hand away from the side of the bed he was lying on.

  “The poison was rather direct,” Jazz said. “And the duel was stupid.”

  “What duel?” Baak asked. He looked at Arran for an answer.

  “Fritz Kapock,” she said.

  “That damned hero. And here I thought he was a honk.” Baak laughed slightly. “What can I do for you, Mr. Worthing, since you’re unfortunately still alive?”

  Jason walked over to him, dragged him to an upright position, and slapped him three times. Blood ran from Farl’s nose. Then the pilot slammed him against the wall. Farl slid down the wall to the floor.

  Hop noticed that Arran seemed distressed by this turn of events, and so he took her hands and held them rather forcefully. “Don’t strain any ribs trying to help your friend,” Hop said. He didn’t mention that he didn’t know why the hell Jazz was hitting Baak right now. Was he beginning to believe his own image—tough guy and brawler? (I’ve created a monster.)

  Arran didn’t try to break away from him. She merely spat in his face. Because he was holding her hands, he couldn’t wipe it away. “Jazz,” he said. “I want a new contract for twenty-five percent. Twenty isn’t enough for these special services.”

  Farl Baak was tipping his head backward to try to stop the nosebleed. “If you’ve broken my nose, you bastard, I’ll see to it you’re shredded.”

  Jazz laughed. “Baak, you’ve got a reputation as a jackass and a pervert. No need to try to maintain that reputation right now. Why did you want me killed, and who are you working for?”

  “I’m a Cabinet minister, Worthing, and I don’t work for anyone.”

  Jason took a step toward him. Farl slid away. “I meant it, Worthing. Until my last waking before this I was controlled, but I didn’t know it. Now that I know it, I’m not controlled.”

  “By whom?” Jazz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Farl Baak insisted, and Hop tended to believe him. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. But you work for him, I know that. You’re part of the plot.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  Baak was silent.

  Jason again menaced the man, but this time Baak didn’t try to retreat. “If you touch me, Worthing, I’ll have a civil suit on you, and criminal complaints for assault and battery, and you know I can make it stick, I’m a Cabinet minister, dammit.”

  Suddenly Arran spoke up. “Don’t be stupid, Farl. Tell him. He doesn’t give a damn about your silly office.”

  Farl looked at her angrily, but it was hard to take him very seriously with his nose bleeding down to his chin. “There are some things I’m willing to endure a lot of pain for, Worthing,” Baak said.

  Jason studied the man, then nodded. “All right, Baak. You’re not what I thought you were. Not a jackass, anyway.” Jazz reached for the man, and Baak flinched. But this time Jason only helped him to the bed. Baak sighed in relief, and lay down, tipping his head back to stop the bleeding. “Once my nose starts bleeding it goes off and on for a week,” Farl complained.

  “Baak, it was stupid to try to kill me. I’m on your side.”

  “And what side is that, Worthing?”

  “Somebody’s trying to take over the government, all right. Well, I don’t like it any better than you do.”

  Suddenly Noyock felt lost. What the hell was going on? Jazz hadn’t been on Capitol in decades, hadn’t talked to anyone out of Hop’s earshot since he got back, and suddenly he seemed deeply into plots and counterplots in the top levels of government.

  Baak sniffed, then sputtered blood. “Dammit, why did you have to be so rough?”

  “Sorry.”

  “It isn’t a plot to take over the government, Jazz, and you know it. Somebody’s already taken over. For eight hundred years or so, I’m pretty sure. Some bastard has been giving orders to the Cabinet.”

  Jason looked at the man intently. “Who?” he asked.

  “Like I told you, my friend, I don’t know. Until recently I didn’t even know I was controlled. But I was. The man works through intermediaries. Blackmail, bribery, playing off old friendships and enmities—”

  “You’re being blackmailed?” Jazz asked.

  “Hardly. Everybody knows every possible scandal about me. Actually I was controlled more subtly. Through an intermediary.”

  “Who?”

  “Arran, of course,” Farl answered.

  Hop had let go of her when Jazz let Farl lie down. Now she cursed softly and walked toward the bed. “‘How can you say that, Farl, I’ve been with you since—”

  “I didn’t say you knew it, did I?” Baak waved her away. “Somebody keep the woman from interrupting. You know how it is, Jazz. You were born on Capitol. I came here from —well, it doesn’t matter. Nowhere. There are certain social circles. Certain groups that dominate the lifeloops, that go to the same parties, that share all the interesting gossip. When I got to this somec level I began to think I belonged in those groups. But I was provincial, a boor. Utterly without manners. It was quite a coup when Arran let me into her life—the unlooped life—and started bringing me to parties, helping me learn what to do, what to say. For fifty wakings, now, I’ve listened to that group debate the great questions of the day— which is a laugh, since the great questions rarely come more than once in a century—and there was definitely an ‘in’ opinion and an ‘out’ opinion. I admit to you that I invariably voted with the ins. It got me a reputation for wisdom. Arran, here—she decides what the in opinion is to be.”

  “Ridiculous,” Arran said. “I just think what I think.”

  “I traced it. I wish I could trace it further, but you were so obviously innocent of the plot that I didn’t want to discover any—”

  “Damn right I’m innocent,” Arran interrupted.

  “Jason, every single Cabinet minister is controlled some way or another. I didn’
t even discover it on my own. I was told. By a friend who shall remain nameless.”

  “You mean Shimon Rapth,” Jazz said.

  Forgetting his nose, Baak sat upright. “If you already know so damn much why did you come in and break my nose!”

  “What did Rapth tell you, Farl?”

  “Just what I told you. That the Cabinet is being controlled.”

  “And you nobly decided to try to put a stop to it by killing me.”

  “No, Worthing, not at all. I don’t give a damn who controls the government. What I care about is who controls the somec—”

  And then the conversation ended, because a half-dozen guards broke into the room, armed with lasers and ready to kill. Three of them took Jason and held him. Only one of them bothered to restrain Hop. Hop was a little offended at how little they feared him. Oh well.

  “If you men worked for me,” Jazz said, “I’d fire you all. He pushed the button ten minutes ago, and had to stall me this long.”

  Farl only set his lips and got up to get something to stanch the nosebleed. Arran also moved. She headed straight for Jason, who knew what was coming but couldn’t do anything about it. She brought her knee up sharply into his groin. Jason cried out and went slack for a moment in the guard’s arms. Then he pulled himself upright and she did it again, even harder. This time Hop cried out, too, and Farl said from the kitchen, where he was dampening a cloth, “That’s enough, Arran.” The Cabinet minister came back into the room with the cloth pressed to his nose. “Too bad you came along with Worthing on this one, Hop,” he said. “We’ve had some pleasant dealings in the past, but this time Jazz is going to die, and I’m really not very afraid of the record on your ship, if there is one, Worthing.”

  Jazz didn’t answer. He was still in pain from Arran’s blows.

  “Jason Worthing isn’t any traitor, Baak,” Noyock said.

  “Oh, heavens, of course not,” Baak answered. “How could I think such a thing? Listen, Noyock, how would you feel if you knew that somebody was getting payoffs to promote wealthy people to high somec levels on merit—men and women who obviously have no merit?”