To THE LAND OF THE ELECTRIC ANGEL: Hugo and Nebula Award Finalist Author (The Frontiers Saga) by William Rotsler
Authors: William Rotsler
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comfort and ease at the top of the heap?
Blake felt a certain sadness within himself. Am I getting just too damn cynical?
"How do you do?" Blake said pleasantly as Jean-Michel thumbed open the chilled bottle.
Sonya jumped when the cork exploded, and they all laughed. The wine was tasty and at just the right temperature. Elaine took one glassful at Voss's insistence, then tactfully disappeared. Sonya poured herself another as the men talked.
"The base camp has been set up," Voss said. "The men will arrive on Sunday. They are all well-trained employees from various of my companies. With the procedures we've set up – the blind jets, the deliberate confusion and so on – they won't know where they are within forty kilometers, if at all. They'll go in and come out at night."
Blake nodded as he poured them both more wine. Then he casually asked, "What's Rio doing these days? It's been several months since I've seen her." The question had been festering in his mind for weeks.
"Running around Yugoslavia, I think."
"Bulgaria," Sonya said, moving closer to Voss in an instinctive gesture that said, Competition is competition even if it isn't in sight.
"Oh?" Blake said, and dropped the subject as if it didn't matter.
They talked for a moment about Sonya's last film, Lord Frankenstein, which Voss had financed; then about how she had lost out to an Italian import on the remake of Captain Blood, a part she had badly wanted.
Blake brought up Rio again. "She's well, is she? Rio, I mean."
"Oh, Rio is never sick," Voss answered.
"Uh ... give her my love when you see her," Blake said, keeping his tone light, almost polite.
"Certainly. Come, my pigeon," Voss said. He clasped Blake's hand and smiled into his eyes. "Keep it up. Don't worry about the other.jobs. Your staff can handle them, I'm sure. You stay on this one." Blake nodded. "We'll have dinner on CasteIli's yacht Friday and then we'll go to Casa Emperador, yes?"
Blake agreed, and they parted. He went back into the silent workroom and looked at the inner chamber model.
It was well designed and he thought it would be well made, well shielded against all sorts of radiation – almost a perfect tomb. The exterior of the site would be disguised and all traces of construction obliterated: the Mystery Tomb that everyone knows about but no one can find. Oh, someone would eventually find it, hacking their way into the tomb with a brute laser. Nothing was sacred, especially not the rich tomb of a multimillionaire.
But there was something about it that still bothered Blake. The tomb was almost too well made. The intricate shielding that had been included in the Inner Chamber specifications still troubled him. Why does a corpse worry about cosmic rays or stray radioactivity? Blake shrugged. People are often oddly concerned about their bodies after death, as if preserving them extended their power, their memory, or their existence in some afterworld.
But the heavy shielding still disturbed him. And the mystery. Moreover, certain things seemed not to have been told to him. For example, he had found out about the installation of a fusion plant in the lower hemisphere of the Inner Chamber completely by accident. Why a fusion plant? Voss had stipulated no powered art or devices in the outer chamber, and construction power was being supplied by an exterior plant. There was just enough of an aura of mystery about the fusion plant that Blake hesitated to bring it up to Voss. He was afraid Voss would tell him it was none of his business, and then a wall would be erected between them, a wall that Blake felt he could not afford. He needed good social relations with Jean-Michel Voss as a path to Rio.
Just for a second he imagined Voss, green-lit and clad in crumbling linen wrappings, carrying Rio in his arms, unconscious and with the night wind moving her sheer gown. For a moment, in his imagination, the light rippled over her flesh the way it had in the pool. Blake whipped his head to one
Blake felt a certain sadness within himself. Am I getting just too damn cynical?
"How do you do?" Blake said pleasantly as Jean-Michel thumbed open the chilled bottle.
Sonya jumped when the cork exploded, and they all laughed. The wine was tasty and at just the right temperature. Elaine took one glassful at Voss's insistence, then tactfully disappeared. Sonya poured herself another as the men talked.
"The base camp has been set up," Voss said. "The men will arrive on Sunday. They are all well-trained employees from various of my companies. With the procedures we've set up – the blind jets, the deliberate confusion and so on – they won't know where they are within forty kilometers, if at all. They'll go in and come out at night."
Blake nodded as he poured them both more wine. Then he casually asked, "What's Rio doing these days? It's been several months since I've seen her." The question had been festering in his mind for weeks.
"Running around Yugoslavia, I think."
"Bulgaria," Sonya said, moving closer to Voss in an instinctive gesture that said, Competition is competition even if it isn't in sight.
"Oh?" Blake said, and dropped the subject as if it didn't matter.
They talked for a moment about Sonya's last film, Lord Frankenstein, which Voss had financed; then about how she had lost out to an Italian import on the remake of Captain Blood, a part she had badly wanted.
Blake brought up Rio again. "She's well, is she? Rio, I mean."
"Oh, Rio is never sick," Voss answered.
"Uh ... give her my love when you see her," Blake said, keeping his tone light, almost polite.
"Certainly. Come, my pigeon," Voss said. He clasped Blake's hand and smiled into his eyes. "Keep it up. Don't worry about the other.jobs. Your staff can handle them, I'm sure. You stay on this one." Blake nodded. "We'll have dinner on CasteIli's yacht Friday and then we'll go to Casa Emperador, yes?"
Blake agreed, and they parted. He went back into the silent workroom and looked at the inner chamber model.
It was well designed and he thought it would be well made, well shielded against all sorts of radiation – almost a perfect tomb. The exterior of the site would be disguised and all traces of construction obliterated: the Mystery Tomb that everyone knows about but no one can find. Oh, someone would eventually find it, hacking their way into the tomb with a brute laser. Nothing was sacred, especially not the rich tomb of a multimillionaire.
But there was something about it that still bothered Blake. The tomb was almost too well made. The intricate shielding that had been included in the Inner Chamber specifications still troubled him. Why does a corpse worry about cosmic rays or stray radioactivity? Blake shrugged. People are often oddly concerned about their bodies after death, as if preserving them extended their power, their memory, or their existence in some afterworld.
But the heavy shielding still disturbed him. And the mystery. Moreover, certain things seemed not to have been told to him. For example, he had found out about the installation of a fusion plant in the lower hemisphere of the Inner Chamber completely by accident. Why a fusion plant? Voss had stipulated no powered art or devices in the outer chamber, and construction power was being supplied by an exterior plant. There was just enough of an aura of mystery about the fusion plant that Blake hesitated to bring it up to Voss. He was afraid Voss would tell him it was none of his business, and then a wall would be erected between them, a wall that Blake felt he could not afford. He needed good social relations with Jean-Michel Voss as a path to Rio.
Just for a second he imagined Voss, green-lit and clad in crumbling linen wrappings, carrying Rio in his arms, unconscious and with the night wind moving her sheer gown. For a moment, in his imagination, the light rippled over her flesh the way it had in the pool. Blake whipped his head to one
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