Gene Wolfe - Home Fires

“Who issued the invitations?”

“Polly did. Polly Lutz.”

“She decided who to invite?”

“No,” Vanessa said, “I did that.”

The brunet smiled. “Thank you for inviting us. We had a super time. I want to apologize for not searching for your daughter, but Gerald didn’t want me to. He said there were plenty of searchers, and it could end in another gunfight.” She paused for a deep breath. “So I stayed in here. I’m sorry now that I did.”

Vanessa kissed her cheek. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find her.”

Skip had been dialing Susan. Having been informed that her phone was out of service, he flipped his own shut. “I apologize to everyone here. This has been a mess, and I made it. Virginia has an urgent matter to discuss, and I put it on the back burner for this. I made Rick and Captain Kain look like fools and I can only hope they’ll forgive me for it. I am the fool, not they. We broke in on Ms. Olivera—”

“Call me Nan, please.”

“We broke in on Nan and terrified her, and I regret it more than I can say.”

The captain cleared his throat. “This cruise has been disastrous, and it’s my fault. The hijackers caught me flatfooted, something that won’t happen again if I live to be a thousand.”

Skip said, “There will be lawsuits, none of which will involve me. For your company’s sake, you should be careful about what you say.”

Johnson grinned. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

Vanessa added, “Hear what?”

“I won’t sue anybody,” Nan Olivera said. “I don’t think Gerald will, either.”

Captain Kain smiled. “You know, I’ve been neglecting my duties. I’m afraid I’ve let the hijacking push my day-to-day job out of my mind. We have some empty staterooms in first class, and we normally upgrade a few second-class passengers to fill those. Would you like to upgrade, Nan? You’d have a sauna and a veranda—and a lot more room, of course.”

“I’d love it! I’m sure Gerald would, too.”

“I’ll see to it, and send your steward to help you move. He’ll have your new cabin card, and it will get you into the first-class dining room.”

Skip motioned to Vanessa, and they left together.

“Where shall we talk?” she whispered.

“Out on deck, if that’s agreeable to you.” He sighed. “I’ve a touch of claustrophobia. It rarely bothers me, but with so many people in that tiny cabin…”

“We could go to your stateroom. Out on your veranda?”

“No.” Skip had started up the stairs. “People on the neighboring verandas could overhear us, and we couldn’t see them listening.”

The sun was bright and warm, the sea sparkling like sapphire, and the big ship heeling to a whistling wind. Skip found them seats in the shade, well away from any listeners.

“You said you told Polly whom to invite. This was a party for soldiers on leave?”

“For anyone who’d been in service.” Although her careful coiffeur was whipping in the wind, Vanessa smiled. “Did you see our announcement? It was in the Bulletin .”

“I suppose I did. I didn’t pay much attention to it.”

“The computer’s got a register of passengers, and the soldiers on leave are listed under their military titles—their honorifics, or whatever you call it. Private so-and-so. Chelle was Mastergunner Chelle Sea Blue. Like that.”

Skip nodded.

“So those were easy to find. I had Amelia contact a few and get the names of some who’d been discharged, and I put that announcement in, and after that I listed everybody and had Polly send invitations. Amelia watched the door, and each of them could bring a guest. Just one. Only some who’d seen my announcement or been told about it just dropped by. If they could show they’d been in the service, Amelia let them in.”

“Do you remember the names you gave Polly?”

“All of them?” Vanessa shook her head.

“Some of them.”

“Yes, certainly. Quite a lot, actually.”

“I’m looking for a man called Jerry. Was there anyone?”

“Ah! I see. Is this to get Chelle back?”

“Yes. Please help if you can.”

“But you won’t tell me what’s going on for fear I’ll be hurt.”

Skip had put on his sunglasses and was studying small white clouds that rode the west wind; he muttered, “That’s close enough.”

“I’d like to get closer. Why?” Vanessa’s hand found his. “Don’t you trust me, Skip? After all we’ve been through?” It was a firm little hand, and it held his tightly.

“I do, but I don’t trust Reanimation. If they get you, they’ll have your mind on their computer. I don’t know how deeply they’ll look into it, but they may find memories they can use to damage Chelle. Or to damage me. We’ll be trying to get you back, and they’ll twist our arms, if they can, to make us stop. Do you recall inviting anyone called Jerry?”

“Jerry? Jerry … I don’t think so. There was Gerald Kent-Jermyn, of course. We were just talking to his wife.”

“Contracta,” Skip said.

“Whatever. She sounded just like a wife. He won’t do?”

“No. We’ve eliminated him. Jerome?”

Vanessa’s eyebrows went up. “I thought you said Jerry.”

“Men named Jerome are often called Jerry, informally.”

“I didn’t know that. What about G-E-R-R-Y? I’ve known women with that name, and it’s pronounced like Jerry.”

“I don’t think it’s a woman, but I heard the name on the phone, so it could be that. Or Geri with an I. Were there any?”

Vanessa shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“Jeremy? Gerard?”

“I don’t think so. John and James. Alan and Robert. There were lots of those.”

“Don Miles.”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember him. And Joe. There were several Joes. Josephs. Several Josephs and one Jake. But I can’t help you with Jerry, I’m afraid, if it isn’t Gerald Kent-Jermyn. I have something to tell you, though, and I wish you’d let me get it out. It’s important, and I’m about to burst.”

“There was someone at that party called Jerry,” Skip insisted.

“If you say so, then I’m sure there was. But I don’t know about him, and Amelia’s dead. She was at the party much more than I was.” Vanessa snapped her fingers. “Why don’t you ask Nan? She was there. Or her husband.”

“I will.”

“Now please don’t tell me why you have to know. Not until I tell you. Do you remember the restaurant? I saw the people eating, and the woman saw me?”

Skip nodded.

“Afterward I was stabbed. Not long afterward, either. Just a few minutes. Did I describe the woman to you?”

“Yes. Round-faced, heavy, nice-looking, light brown hair.”

“There’s a woman on this ship. The first time I saw her I knew I’d seen her before, but I couldn’t place her. She’s more of a blonde now, but that’s easy and it could be the sun. Then we had that meeting. You had me take off my little gun so everybody could see my arm. Remember?”

“I do.” Skip was staring. “There was only one other woman in that room.”

“Does she work for you? I got that impression.”

“She did. She was my secretary. You’re saying that Susan—Susan Clerkin, who worked for me for years—belonged to a suicide ring.”

Vanessa shook her head, earrings bouncing. “I’m not. I don’t know that. I’m just saying that the woman who was with you in that meeting is the one who saw me in Simone’s. She is. Could she have planted the bomb that killed Polly and Amelia?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that, Skip? Your secretary?”

Skip did not speak.

“My God, you look awful. Does it really hurt that much?”

“I hurt her very badly, Vanessa. I wounded her far more deeply than I realized at the time, and now she’s getting her own back with interest. She called me. That was when I was talking to the captain, after a couple of hundred of us had spent hours searching the ship for Chelle.” Skip paused, remembering. “She told me she had Chelle, and to prove it she let Chelle talk to me for a few seconds.”