Part 34 (1/2)
”I should've killed him years ago, when he murdered Foster Brennart. When he tried to kill me. I should've killed him then. Executed him. Then this wouldn't have happened. Then Tamara would still be alive.”
”It's not your fault,” Edith repeated.
”It's all all my fault,” Doug snapped. ”All of this mess is my doing. If I hadn't... if I'd just let Faure...' His voice sank to an exhausted moan. my fault,” Doug snapped. ”All of this mess is my doing. If I hadn't... if I'd just let Faure...' His voice sank to an exhausted moan.
Looking uncomfortable, Anson said, ”Speaking of Faure -just who the h.e.l.l is Killifer working for?”
”What do you mean?” Edith asked.
”You don't think he went all the way out to Kiribati and murdered their chief of state all on his own, do you? Who's pulling his strings?”
”The police will find out when they catch him,” Edith said.
Anson shook her head. ”He's already left Kiribati. Never went back to his hotel. Chartered a plane and took off at first light.”
”Interpol will find him,” Edith said confidently.
Anson was not so certain. ”Interpol works for the U.N. now, doesn't it? Besides, what evidence do they have that he murdered Bonai?”
”An eyewitness,” Doug said from his bunk.
”In virtual reality,” Anson countered. ”I wonder if Interpol or anybody else is gonna take that seriously.”
Sinking back on his pillows, Doug admitted, ”You're probably right. The Kiribati police certainly took their sweet time getting out to the islet to find her body.”
Edith looked intrigued. ”An eyewitness in VR. That's a h.e.l.luva story.”
”They won't accept my testimony,” Doug said weakly. ”I won't even be able to testify against him. It's totally useless. I'm I'm totally useless.” totally useless.”
Edith sat on the edge of the bunk. ”Don't think that for a minute, Doug. We'll get him, you'll see.”
Doug closed his eyes. ”Let me sleep for a while. I just want... I need to sleep.”
”The tranquilizers are hitting him,” the medic said.
”About time,” said Anson.
”Come on, let him get some rest,” Edith said, shooing them out of the bedroom.
The others left, all except Gordette.
I'll wait outside,” he said to Edith. ”If you need to go someplace, I'll stay with him.”
DAY FORTY-TWO.
Edith worked through the night at the computer in Doug's living room, splicing together a coherent story about the rape and murder of a national leader that was witnessed by a man from four hundred thousand kilometers away. She called down to Global News headquarters in Atlanta a dozen times, rousting researchers and fact-checkers until she had the whole thing pieced together.
Once she squirted the basic bits through to Atlanta she looked in on Doug, who was still asleep in his bunk. Afraid of disturbing him, she took the sling chair in the living room and leaned back to catch a few winks. Her sleep was interrupted almost immediately by the phone chime.
It was Manny, her programming chief in Atlanta, bouncing in his chair with excitement.
”Edie, cheez, this is terrific! The a.s.sa.s.sination on Tarawa was witnessed by a guy on the Moon! Absolutely fantastic!”
”And it's our exclusive,” Edith pointed out.
Manny hadn't stopped talking. ”Legal says we can't name the killer; can't make any accusations until the guy's arrested and charged. But, cheez, the story's tremendous!' tremendous!'
Edith smiled at the screen, but for the first time in her career she realized that behind the story she was filing there were human beings in pain. A dead woman. Doug, sick with frustration and responsibilities that no one could take off his shoulders. And a murderer somewhere on Earth who would probably never be arrested, let alone brought to justice.
”Yeah,” she said wearily to her boss. ”Tremendous is the word for it, all right.”
Manny eyed her questioningly. ”You don't look so hot, kid.”
”I'm kinda tired,” she admitted.
”Pull yourself together. We missed the evening news slot but the suits upstairs want your personal report in the system in time for our affiliates' eleven o'clock.”
Edith had been on the Moon long enough to make a quick mental calculation. She had a little less than three hours to show up at Moonbase's studio looking bright and perky for a live broadcast.
”Okay,” she said. ”Let me get a little nap.”
”And some makeup.”
”Yeah, sure,” she said, knowing that it might be a problem. She had been borrowing makeup from the supply that Joanna Brudnoy had left behind, but she had always scrupulously asked Doug's permission to raid his mother's quarters. Now Doug was sleeping, tranquilized, and she didn't want to wake him.
She stretched out again on the sling chair, this time using the desk chair to rest her feet upon. She set her wrist.w.a.tch's alarm for one hour. Maybe Doug'll be awake by then, she thought. She fell asleep almost at once, a trick she had learned years ago. News reporters had to grab their sleep when they could, like soldiers.
The wrist alarm beeped softly. Edith woke as instantly as she had gone to sleep, alert and feeling refreshed.
She tiptoed to the part.i.tion and looked in on Doug. He was tossing restlessly, the sheet twisted around his legs. Edith went in and straightened the sheet, kissed him lightly on the forehead, then tiptoed out again.
I'll have to go over to Mrs Brudnoy's place without asking him, she thought. Yet she hesitated, not wanting to leave Doug alone. If he wakes up, I ought to be here. Or somebody oughtta be here, at least.
Who to call? Then she remembered that Bam Gordette had offered to watch Doug. The man acted like a bodyguard anyway, Edith told herself. She phoned him, but there was no answer at his quarters.
It's past two in the morning, she saw, glancing at the digital clock set next to the computer screen. He couldn't be still waiting out in the corridor, could he?
She pushed the door open, and Gordette was sitting on the floor, his back against the opposite wall, his eyes wide open and focused squarely on her.
”You've been out here all night?” Edith asked, incredulous.
Getting to his feet, Gordette nodded. ”I can sleep anyplace,” he said, by way of explanation.
Swiftly, almost whispering, Edith told him that she had to get to the studio and do a live broadcast.
Gordette nodded solemnly. I'll take care of Doug.”
”Wonderful,” said Edith, suppressing an urge to kiss him on the cheek. Gordette did not seem like the kind of man to play the usual media kissy-face ritual.
Gordette watched her hurry down the corridor. Silently he slid the door shut and walked to the part.i.tion that separated the two sections of Doug Stavenger's quarters.