place there too. It was to her room that Axman made his way later that night, when he was certain Frost and the others slept.
“Who is it?” she asked through the door in response to his soft knocking.
“Graham Axman. I must talk to you.”
“Just for a moment.”
She slid open the door and peered out, her face shadowed by the polarized light. “What do you want?”
“Let me in,” he said, pushing past her. In that moment his motives were mixed even in his own mind. The possibility of sexual assault was certainly among them. “Now then, I want to know everything about this man Blunt.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Are we suddenly modest?”
She merely stared at him. “No, just sleepy.”
“Then I won’t keep you long. But it was never explained to me how you came in contact with Jason Blunt.”
“He contacted me, if you must know.” She seated herself on the edge of the cycled bed, crossing her legs so that the pale pink nightsuit fell open. His eyes took in the full thighs, slender calves, thin ankles.
“For what purpose?” he asked.
She glanced around nervously, and for an instant he was reminded of a laudanum addict seeking a dose. But then she seemed to settle down, facing him with a bland, bleak smile. “I was Stanley Ambrose’s mistress, remember? It seems to be a fact that was well known around the country. I sometimes wonder that it wasn’t on the telenews, or in the hologram theaters.”
“Blunt came to you because of that?”
“Yes, he came to me because of that. The first time.” She turned to gaze at the wall. “He wanted to know about Stanley, just as Euler Frost and Earl Jazine did later.”
“You became Blunt’s lover?”
She shrugged. “He bought a sixteen-year-old girl as a bride on the Turkish market. As you know, those things have a way of paling after a few years. He’s a wealthy man, most generous with his gifts. I would have been foolish to refuse him. Stanley had stopped writing to me, after all.”
“Had Ambrose ever mentioned Blunt in his letters?”
“No, and I really couldn’t tell Jason anything he wanted to know. I learned a great deal from him, though.”
“Which you passed along to Euler.”
“Yes.”
“How did he come into the picture?”
“The same as everyone else. He heard that Stanley might be involved in some plot, and found out that I was Stanley’s mistress. The difference was that I liked Euler. He convinced me that HAND was on the right side, and so I began to supply him with information.”
“Information you got from Blunt.”
“Correct.”
Axman shook his head. “And then you lured this Jazine into bed too? You really should have been a spy, a twenty-first-century Mata Hari!”
“There are some things that I do well,” she admitted.
“Would you care to demonstrate?”
But she only laughed. “It’s much too late for that. I am on Euler Frost’s side in this, Mr. Axman.”
“That could be the wrong side.”
“We’ll see.”
She rose and saw him out. “Thank you for the information anyway,” he said as the door closed behind him.
If he had gone there hoping to win an ally, he was disappointed. Euler Frost had beaten him again.
11 JASON BLUNT
T HE FLIGHT TO UTAH with Carl Crader had been one of those necessary irritations with which one is often faced in the business world. To startle the enemy and show your hand to him was a risky business, but Blunt was used to taking risks. While still in his late twenties he’d bluffed a competitor out of an oil site in the Arctic Ocean by taking him for a submarine ride to inspect cold-weather drilling equipment. The man, convinced Blunt had unlimited resources, quickly backed away from the deal.
He’d tried something of the same technique with Carl Crader. No words he could speak would have impressed Crader nearly as much as the flight to the desert and a personally conducted tour of the underground city. The word would certainly get back to President
“Who is it?” she asked through the door in response to his soft knocking.
“Graham Axman. I must talk to you.”
“Just for a moment.”
She slid open the door and peered out, her face shadowed by the polarized light. “What do you want?”
“Let me in,” he said, pushing past her. In that moment his motives were mixed even in his own mind. The possibility of sexual assault was certainly among them. “Now then, I want to know everything about this man Blunt.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Are we suddenly modest?”
She merely stared at him. “No, just sleepy.”
“Then I won’t keep you long. But it was never explained to me how you came in contact with Jason Blunt.”
“He contacted me, if you must know.” She seated herself on the edge of the cycled bed, crossing her legs so that the pale pink nightsuit fell open. His eyes took in the full thighs, slender calves, thin ankles.
“For what purpose?” he asked.
She glanced around nervously, and for an instant he was reminded of a laudanum addict seeking a dose. But then she seemed to settle down, facing him with a bland, bleak smile. “I was Stanley Ambrose’s mistress, remember? It seems to be a fact that was well known around the country. I sometimes wonder that it wasn’t on the telenews, or in the hologram theaters.”
“Blunt came to you because of that?”
“Yes, he came to me because of that. The first time.” She turned to gaze at the wall. “He wanted to know about Stanley, just as Euler Frost and Earl Jazine did later.”
“You became Blunt’s lover?”
She shrugged. “He bought a sixteen-year-old girl as a bride on the Turkish market. As you know, those things have a way of paling after a few years. He’s a wealthy man, most generous with his gifts. I would have been foolish to refuse him. Stanley had stopped writing to me, after all.”
“Had Ambrose ever mentioned Blunt in his letters?”
“No, and I really couldn’t tell Jason anything he wanted to know. I learned a great deal from him, though.”
“Which you passed along to Euler.”
“Yes.”
“How did he come into the picture?”
“The same as everyone else. He heard that Stanley might be involved in some plot, and found out that I was Stanley’s mistress. The difference was that I liked Euler. He convinced me that HAND was on the right side, and so I began to supply him with information.”
“Information you got from Blunt.”
“Correct.”
Axman shook his head. “And then you lured this Jazine into bed too? You really should have been a spy, a twenty-first-century Mata Hari!”
“There are some things that I do well,” she admitted.
“Would you care to demonstrate?”
But she only laughed. “It’s much too late for that. I am on Euler Frost’s side in this, Mr. Axman.”
“That could be the wrong side.”
“We’ll see.”
She rose and saw him out. “Thank you for the information anyway,” he said as the door closed behind him.
If he had gone there hoping to win an ally, he was disappointed. Euler Frost had beaten him again.
11 JASON BLUNT
T HE FLIGHT TO UTAH with Carl Crader had been one of those necessary irritations with which one is often faced in the business world. To startle the enemy and show your hand to him was a risky business, but Blunt was used to taking risks. While still in his late twenties he’d bluffed a competitor out of an oil site in the Arctic Ocean by taking him for a submarine ride to inspect cold-weather drilling equipment. The man, convinced Blunt had unlimited resources, quickly backed away from the deal.
He’d tried something of the same technique with Carl Crader. No words he could speak would have impressed Crader nearly as much as the flight to the desert and a personally conducted tour of the underground city. The word would certainly get back to President
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