it were—before Su Lin could do it for him.
He said, “I don’t like being manipulated.”
“You haven’t been manipulated all the time,” she told him.
“And this nasty, mercenary streak you accuse me of having. . . .”
“What shipowner doesn’t have one?”
“Some more than others. More than me.”
“So you say.” Her smile robbed the words of offense.
It did more than that, making her look very attractive. And, he knew now, there was no longer that master-servant relationship to deter him from entering into a relationship with her. But would she now renew the offer that she had made when, so far as he then knew, she was no more than a serving girl?
She was still smiling at him, on her feet and facing him. She did not break away when he took her in his arms—but she did not put her own arms about him. She did not turn her lips away from his—but she did not open them.
When the kiss—such as it was—was over she said, “As well as being mercenary, you’re snobbish. You had the offer, your first day here, and you turned it down. And now that you know that there’s no great social gulf yawning between us you think that we’ll fall happily into bed together.”
Now Grimes was really wanting her. He kissed her again, brutally, and, holding her to him, walked her backwards into the bedroom. He threw her on to the couch. She sprawled there, looking up at him. And was that contempt in her expression—or pity?
She said, “When I first met you, you were making the rules. Now I’m making them. You can have me when I’m ready—and not before. Once you’ve proven yourself to be as good a man as Governor Wibberley was. . . .”
“You mean that he and you. . . .”
“Try to get your mind off sex, John. He was a good man, a religious man. A Bible-basher you’d call him—but, unlike so many Christians, he really tried to live according to his faith, to comfort and succor the helpless. Even agnostics such as myself could appreciate him, to say nothing of the mess of Anarchists, Confucianists, Buddhists and the Odd Gods alone know what on this planet. We—the various undergrounds and PAT—hope that you will carry on his work, the restoration of hope and dignity to the refugee peoples, the suppression of Bardon’s rackets. . . .”
“Get off your soap box, Su,” said Grimes tiredly. “I’m here to do a job and I’ll do it to the best of my ability. I’ll expect some pay for my work—after all, I have that nasty, mercenary streak in me—but, if all goes well, I’ll arrange it myself. It won’t cost PAT anything. It won’t cost you anything. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed. By myself.”
“I certainly do not intend otherwise.”
She got up from the bed and walked slowly out of the room.
“Call me at the usual time,” Grimes called after her.
Chapter 17
The next day Grimes had been looking forward to taking a test flight in Fat Susie but, while he was having his breakfast, Jaconelli brought him a list of the day’s appointments. He was to be host at a luncheon, he learned, for Madam President and her ministers. After this he was to accompany her to the official opening of the new Handicrafts Center just outside Libertad. After that he was free—for what little remained of the day.
He spent the forenoon familiarizing himself with the Residence, guided by Wong Lee and with Su Lin and Lieutenant Smith in attendance. It was one of those buildings that seemed to have just happened, additional rooms and facilities being tacked on to an originally quite small house as required. The servants’ quarters were underground, as was the kitchen. Grimes lingered here, using a pair of long chopsticks handed to him by the chef to sample tidbits from various cooking utensils. He did some more nibbling during his tour of the storerooms.
There were the vaults in which the records were stored—or had been stored. Filing cabinets were empty and the only information
He said, “I don’t like being manipulated.”
“You haven’t been manipulated all the time,” she told him.
“And this nasty, mercenary streak you accuse me of having. . . .”
“What shipowner doesn’t have one?”
“Some more than others. More than me.”
“So you say.” Her smile robbed the words of offense.
It did more than that, making her look very attractive. And, he knew now, there was no longer that master-servant relationship to deter him from entering into a relationship with her. But would she now renew the offer that she had made when, so far as he then knew, she was no more than a serving girl?
She was still smiling at him, on her feet and facing him. She did not break away when he took her in his arms—but she did not put her own arms about him. She did not turn her lips away from his—but she did not open them.
When the kiss—such as it was—was over she said, “As well as being mercenary, you’re snobbish. You had the offer, your first day here, and you turned it down. And now that you know that there’s no great social gulf yawning between us you think that we’ll fall happily into bed together.”
Now Grimes was really wanting her. He kissed her again, brutally, and, holding her to him, walked her backwards into the bedroom. He threw her on to the couch. She sprawled there, looking up at him. And was that contempt in her expression—or pity?
She said, “When I first met you, you were making the rules. Now I’m making them. You can have me when I’m ready—and not before. Once you’ve proven yourself to be as good a man as Governor Wibberley was. . . .”
“You mean that he and you. . . .”
“Try to get your mind off sex, John. He was a good man, a religious man. A Bible-basher you’d call him—but, unlike so many Christians, he really tried to live according to his faith, to comfort and succor the helpless. Even agnostics such as myself could appreciate him, to say nothing of the mess of Anarchists, Confucianists, Buddhists and the Odd Gods alone know what on this planet. We—the various undergrounds and PAT—hope that you will carry on his work, the restoration of hope and dignity to the refugee peoples, the suppression of Bardon’s rackets. . . .”
“Get off your soap box, Su,” said Grimes tiredly. “I’m here to do a job and I’ll do it to the best of my ability. I’ll expect some pay for my work—after all, I have that nasty, mercenary streak in me—but, if all goes well, I’ll arrange it myself. It won’t cost PAT anything. It won’t cost you anything. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed. By myself.”
“I certainly do not intend otherwise.”
She got up from the bed and walked slowly out of the room.
“Call me at the usual time,” Grimes called after her.
Chapter 17
The next day Grimes had been looking forward to taking a test flight in Fat Susie but, while he was having his breakfast, Jaconelli brought him a list of the day’s appointments. He was to be host at a luncheon, he learned, for Madam President and her ministers. After this he was to accompany her to the official opening of the new Handicrafts Center just outside Libertad. After that he was free—for what little remained of the day.
He spent the forenoon familiarizing himself with the Residence, guided by Wong Lee and with Su Lin and Lieutenant Smith in attendance. It was one of those buildings that seemed to have just happened, additional rooms and facilities being tacked on to an originally quite small house as required. The servants’ quarters were underground, as was the kitchen. Grimes lingered here, using a pair of long chopsticks handed to him by the chef to sample tidbits from various cooking utensils. He did some more nibbling during his tour of the storerooms.
There were the vaults in which the records were stored—or had been stored. Filing cabinets were empty and the only information
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