Mag Force - Hung Out Part 17

"He says it's not the pool cleaner."

Jamil was on his feet. "This has been a busy day. Doc, you're with me. Harry, you stay with Darlene. Careful, Doc. Don't tip him off that we're on to him."

"I understand perfectly the finesse required for this particular situation," Quong returned, nettled. The two strolled casually across the patio in the direction of the pool. "I don't need a retired Army officer to explain it to me."

"Fine, Doc, fine. Keep your voice down and if you have to shoot, shoot low. We need to talk to him."

"Harry!" said Darlene, exasperated, "I appreciate your concern, but there's no need to use your body as a s.h.i.+eld. Could you please move out of the way? I can't see!"

Harry shook his head. He had planted his large body in front of Darlene and seemed prepared to take root and flower.

According to the file, Hung a.s.sa.s.sins had tried twice to kill Darlene Mohini. Petronella drew her own lasgun, hid it swiftly beneath her purse.

Harry Luck regarded her with narrowed eyes, but Darlene said softly, "It's all right, Harry. She's on our side."

"If you say so," he muttered, and turned to keep a close watch on the alleged pool cleaner, who was down on his hands and knees, taking water samples.

Petronella didn't argue. She wasn't exactly on their side, but she'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let some Hung a.s.sa.s.sin kill her star witness.

Jamil and Quong were sauntering over to the pool. The pool cleaner, intent upon his samples, was bent over his work.

At that moment, Raoul wandered out the French doors a" doors that opened almost directly onto the swimming pool and brought him into close proximity with the bent-over pool cleaner. Cheek by jowl, as it were.

Delightfully relaxed from the sedative, which would have put most humans into a sound sleep for a week, but which merely gave the Loti a feeling of pleasant euphoria, Raoul gazed directly at a most interesting and attractive portion of the pool cleaner's anatomy, perfectly showcased in spandex swimming trunks.

"Ah!" cried Raoul, staring at this vision which, after the paralyzing shock of Harry's suit, seemed a gift from the G.o.ds. "You're not the usual pool cleaner!"

The man leaped to his feet.

"d.a.m.n!" Jamil cried, and broke into a run.

The pool cleaner took one glance behind him, saw Quong and Jamil coming for him. Reaching into the water, he grabbed hold of something, then sprinted for safety. He shoved Raoul roughly out of his way, scaled the wall that encircled the pool, was up and over the side and had dropped down to the ground below before Jamil could fire his lasgun or Raoul could get his name and phone number.

They heard the roar of a hover engine firing and by the time Jamil had pulled himself up onto the wall for a look, all he could see was the back end of a truck soaring over the tops of the palm trees.

Jamil dropped to the ground, brushed the dirt from his hands, and gazed ruefully at the stains on his good trousers.

"Did you get the name?" Quong asked.

"Yes," Jamil began. "Excepta""

"Oh, good!" Raoul cried, clasping his hands.

"But," Jamil continued, glaring at Raoul, "you can be d.a.m.n sure that the truck was stolen. Ah, Hoskins."

The butler appeared, looking much more relaxed, though he swayed slightly on his feet and the air was tinged with the strong smell of brandy.

"Yes, sir. I heard the commotiona""

"That was the pool cleaner, making a quick exit."

"Yes, sir. I was just going to say, sir, that he was not the usual pool cleaner and that today is not the day when the pool is customarily cleaned. The pool cleaners are not scheduled to come until tomorrow, and while I have known them to be late on countless occasions, I have never once known them to be early."

Quong went to examine the pool equipment, which the man, in his mad dash, had left behind. Jamil, in no very good humor, returned to the table.

"We lost him," he lamented. "He left in a van that was probably stolen. He's likely ditched it by now. Should we report it?"

"On Adonia, they'd only arrest him if he left the van parked in a flower bed," Darlene said dryly.

"Maybe we could tell them he was the one who sold Harry that suit," Jamil growled. "Except that then they'd shoot to kill."

Raoul joined them, keeping his hand carefully over his eyes, avoiding looking at Harry.

"Why did you frighten him away?" Raoul complained "Because he was a Hung a.s.sa.s.sin, that's why," Jamil snapped.

"n.o.body's perfect. Just part of him." Raoul smiled sadly at the memory.

"He was not an a.s.sa.s.sin, my friends," said Dr. Quong.

In his hand, he held a boom microphone electronic listening device disguised inside a vacuum hose.

"He was a spy. There was probably a microwave recording unit attached to it. See where one would fit in here? He recorded our conversation and when he was exposed..."

Raoul gave a wistful sigh.

". . . he fled, taking the recording with him."

"But that's not very plausible," Darlene argued. "Why would the Hung send someone to spy on me when he could just as easily have killed me?"

The Little One shook his head, sending the fedora toppling into his eyes, and pointed a jabbing finger.

Everyone turned to Petronella.

"The pool cleaner was not spying on Darlene," Raoul said, after he and the Little One had held one of their silent and eerie communications. "He was spying on Agent Rizzoli."

CHAPTER 16.

The easiest person to deceive is one's own self.

Baron Lytton, The Disowned Are you sure?" Petronella demanded. She didn't need to act startled. She was startled. "Why? How? No one knew I was coming here.... It doesn't make sense....

A patio chair skittered across the flagstone, landed with a splash in the swimming pool.

"Did I really see that?" Raoul asked.

The Little One nodded the fedora.

"I had to make sure. These days, it's so hard to tell," Raoul said.

Dr. Quong brought out his notepad. "I a.s.sume that you are taking the standard medication prescribed for Talisians off-world? Obviously the medicine's not working all that well for you. My guess would be that, in your case, unlike other Talisians I have treated, the kinetic fluxes do not roll off you in waves, but rather they whip out like tendrils. Perhaps that's why. Now, if I could check your blood pressurea""

"Not now, Doc," Jamil said impatiently.

Petronella tried to figure out how to play this. Of course, they'd staged it, but why? For what reason?

"But who could be having me followed?" Petronella asked, glancing at them all uncertainly. "You don't thinka""

"Amadi," Darlene said coolly. "It has to be."

The Little One caught hold of the sleeve of Raoul's blouse and tugged on it urgently, drawing his friend back reluctantly from whatever world he was currently visiting.

"What is it? Oh, yes." Raoul gazed at Petronella with dreamy, unfocused eyes. "The Little One says that the pool cleaner was, in reality, an Adonian private detective hired by someonea"he's not clear who it wasa"to keep watch on you and to record what you said and to whom you said it."

"Which explains why he ran at the first sign of trouble," Jamil said. "An Adonian detective. His biggest case before this was probably trying to track down smudgy mascara."

"If it was Amadi, wouldn't he have sent his own people?" Quong wondered.

Both Darlene and Petronella shook their heads.

"The Bureau doesn't station agents on Adonia," Darlene explained. "The local authorities are afraid that the Bureau's presence might interfere with bribery, kickbacks, roll-overs, and the Adonian good life in general.

"If there's a reason for the Bureau to be on Adonia, they can either send in agents good-looking enough to pa.s.s through customs, or they hire Adonians. That's a last option, because they're not terribly efficient. As it was," Darlene admitted, "this one was pretty d.a.m.n good. He was here for almost an hour, caught us telling Agent Rizzoli everything there is to tell."

"And you couldn't get any reading on who hired him?"

The Little One opened his hands, smacked himself on the forehead.

"The agent was not thinking about who hired him. Why should he?" Raoul asked. "He was thinking about the loveliness of the clouds in the sky, the beauty of the swans reflected in the pool, the spicy fragrance of the hibiscus, so conducive to love, how attractive he found his reflection in the water, his blond hair tousled just so...." Raoul sighed. "We could have been soul mates!"

A Beethoven violin sonata began to play.

"The phone," said Raoul, looking up hopefully.

Hoskins emerged.

"For me?" Raoul cried.

"No, sir. I fear not. It is for Dr. Quong. His answering service."

"Excuse me." Quong left them.

Why were they going to such lengths? Petronella wasn't certain. They were probably hoping to trap her into revealing something.

Quong emerged from the house. Walking straight up to Harry, he rested his hand on the big man's shoulder. "You do not have to worry about Xris anymore, my friend."

"I don't?" Harry sprang to his feet. "He's been released!"

"No, they have not released him," Quong said. "But he has been transferred. He is not going to the ice mines on Sandusky's Rock. He is being sent to the correctional facility for antisocial behavior on Jango. He has asked to see me and the authorities have given me permission to attend to him. I must go pack my things."

"Jango," said Darlene, startled. "That's..." She let the sentence hang.

"That's what?" Jamil asked.

"Interesting," said Darlene lamely.

"Not to me!" Harry protested. "Why's the Doc going? Why can't I go? What about me?"

"Shush, Harry," Darlene said softly, with slight tilt of the head in the direction of Petronella, a glance and tilt that Harry missed, but which Petronella caught and which further increased her suspicions.

"I think I should go," Harry said stubbornly.

"Shut up, Harry, and sit down," Jamil ordered. "You need any help, Doc?"

"Thank you, but no. Agent Rizzoli," Quong said, turning to her, "it has been a pleasure meeting you."

Petronella gave a cool, curt nod and stood up. She had a call to make.

"I have to be going as well. Good-bye," she said. "It's been... interesting. Of course, I think you're completely mistaken about Jafar el Amadi. He has an exemplary record. But I'll keep what you told me in mind. If you receive any more information, you know how to contact me," she added wryly.

She walked off, conscious that she had made an abrupt exit and that she had left them all staring at her.

"Very rude," came Raoul's voice. "She never even said thank you for the vacation, and after we purchased tickets for her and everything. I told you I didn't like her."

Entering the living room, Petronella nearly knocked over Hoskins, who must have sprung up from the marble-tiled floor.

As Hoskins gravely and silently escorted her to the front door, the vase that had teetered earlier now lurched off its black marble stand and crashed to the floor.

Gulping and looking stricken, Petronella gasped. "I'm so sorry. I'll pay for the damagesa""

Hoskins was gracious, though haggard. It had been a difficult day. "Never mind, madam. The master was not particularly fond of that Ming vase anyway."

"If you're certaina""

"Quite certain," Hoskins said firmly.

Taking hold of her elbow, he steered her rapidly to the front door. "Next time Madam visits, perhaps Madam would be kind enough to warn us in advance. I could then pack away all the breakables."

He shut the door on her.

Petronella ran down the stairs. As she climbed into the hover, she heard a piercing scream come from the mansion.

Well, she wouldn't be invited back here again.