The Grand Wheel

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell his Legitimacy masters what the game really was, not if his suspicions, his horrible but all-too-probable suspicions were true. Because he knew what the Legitimacy’s reaction would be, once they had confirmed his story. Indeed they would see very little choice, desperate though the recourse would be. Chasm would be the first world to be delivered a planet-busting bomb. Other Wheel-dominated worlds would also be destroyed, in short order. It was fairly certain, too, that the Wheel would have some means of retaliating to all this. And the Hadranics would walk in to trample on what was left.

‘Listen,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to contact me. Did you bring me a supply?’

‘Supply?’

‘My supply! The aerosols!’ He became suddenly impatient, irritable.

The agent chuckled mockingly. ‘You’ll be all right for a while yet. You know the arrangement.’ He bent his head forward, glaring at Scarne from beneath raised eyebrows. ‘Now you listen to me. All the Wheel big shots are in Chasm right now. It’s a regular convention – we reckon they’re making this the Grand Wheel’s capital. We’re certain the data is here, and the equipment to make it effective too, if any exists. Find it!’

‘You’ve got Chasm crawling with agents,’ Scarne retorted. ‘You find it.’

The Legitimacy man spread his hands. ‘You don’t even have to procure it yourself. You only have to lead us to it.’

Scarne grimaced. ‘How can you be sure there are any … there is the data you want?’

‘You know it as well as we do. There’s no doubt, at this stage.’ The agent gave a monitory tap on the table-top. ‘You’re the man who’s placed to get it – so get it. That’s an order that comes from high up, from way up, and you’re on the spot. Time’s running out for you, isn’t it, Scarne? You’ve got about two weeks, so I’m told. You’d better hear this – nothing else is coming to you. You either get released, or you get nothing.’

‘You really want this information bad, don’t you?’ Scarne said, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

‘That’s outside your brief – and mine,’ the other answered sternly, with a wave of his hand. ‘Just do what’s required of you.’

Scarne nodded. ‘You really need it. Why, I wonder? It’s the war, isn’t it? We’re going to lose the war, unless the government can pull something out of the hat pretty soon.’

The agent stiffened. He stared at Scarne in disgust. ‘You’re talking crap,’ he said. ‘The Legitimacy doesn’t lose wars. Ever.’

Back at the five-level hotel, Scarne found Cadence in one of the lounges, talking with Soma and others of the retinue. She eyed him closely as he flopped down next to her.

‘Had a bad day? You look wiped out.’

‘This town depresses me,’ Scarne said. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s time to leave.’

He called across to Soma. ‘Hey, Jerry! When are we leaving this dump? When’s the big game?’

Soma raised one upright finger before his face, a recognized, final signal. ‘No info.’

‘That’s what they always say.’

Hank Marem, another games player in Dom’s selected group, a heavily built, deceptively slow, lugubrious man, answered Scarne. ‘Well I’m as sure as hell not eager to leave yet. Hell …’ He trailed off, staring into his drink. ‘I’d like a million years before I feel ready,’ he finished.

A door at the rear of the lounge opened. A hush fell on the gathering as the charismatic figure of Marguerite Dom entered, sauntering into the room. The Wheel boss’s gaze seemed to flick over them all, taking in every detail.

A waiter hurried up as Dom casually seated himself at the table, offering him a cocktail. Dom sipped it, set it down, then turned to Scarne.

‘Have a relaxing day, Scarne? Ready for a few sessions tomorrow?’

Dom’s fruity and idiosyncratic, slightly mocking voice was impossible to read. ‘Fairly, sir,’ Scarne said uneasily, feeling the other’s eyes on him. Dom’s presence was something he had learned to sense instinctively. It was something he could almost smell, a slightly rotting odour.

‘Jolly good,’ Dom murmured. ‘We don’t want to overstrain you, you know. How’s your health?’

‘I feel fine.’

‘Excellent.’ The Wheel master swallowed his cocktail. ‘See you tomorrow.’ He rose and sauntered away, making for the front of the hotel, an eccentric, confident, all-powerful figure.

When he had gone Scarne breathed an inward sigh of relief, though he was not altogether sure why. Lately he had been getting to know Dom intimately; he was one of Dom’s favourites, and was being groomed by him as a games partner, in a kind of relationship that could only be compared with marriage. Scarne was finding it harder and harder to shake off the man’s clinging aura; his combination of smooth charm and total cynicism both fascinated and repelled him.