Ben Bova - The Sam Gunn Omnibus

“It’s a little tricky,” Sam started to explain. But when he looked at Jade he asked, “What do I call you, anyway? Ms. Inconnu? Jane? What?”

“Mrs. Johansen,” Jade answered. “You know my husband.”

“Spence?” Sam’s voice jumped an octave. “You’re married to Spence Johansen? He’s here at Selene?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

Sam thought that over for all of three seconds. Then, “Okay, but I can’t call you Mrs. Johansen: too stuffy.”

“My friends call me Jade.”

“Jade,” he repeated. Indra cast a less-than-friendly glance at Jade, then touched Sam’s arm possessively.

“Perhaps we should begin our meal,” Satay suggested. “Before the robots become impatient.”

They all laughed politely.

Throughout the dinner Sam regaled them with tales of his adventures with Spencer Johansen, and Larry Karsh, Elverda Apacheta, even his double who—he claimed—had returned to the black hole out beyond the orbit of Pluto. On and on, Sam talked nonstop until they had finished dessert and were sipping cognac from oversized snifters.

“I still don’t understand about this orchestra business,” Jade said, trying to get back to the subject she was interested in. “Why should you want to buy the Philharmonic?”

“Sam is a philanthropist at heart,” Indra said.

“Really?”

Sam gave her a wry grin. “It’s like this. Legally, the orchestra is owned by a consortium of Selene’s citizens. Its revenues come from private donations—which are never enough to cover its expenses. The difference is made up out of taxes and annual fund drives.”

“So?”

“So I figured that if I owned the orchestra I could foot its expenses, whatever they are, and spare the citizens of Selene the annual begging campaign.”

“And the taxes,” Indra added.

Sam nodded.

“But where would the money come from?” Jade asked. “As I understand it you’re broke.”

Waggling a hand in the air, Sam said, “Well, not exactly broke. I still get a trickle of money from my share of the Hell Crater resort complex.”

“I thought you signed all that away to Rockledge.”

With a grin, Sam replied, “So did a certain silver-haired slimeball named Pierre D’Argent. But I kept one percent. He was so glad to get his hands on the complex that he overlooked that little piece of fine print.”

“One percent of the gross,” Indra said, with a tiny giggle.

“Is that true?” asked Jade.

He looked deeply into her eyes before answering. “More or less,” he said at last.

Satay spoke up. “I must say that it will be quite an experience for the orchestra to be under your management.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said absently, still staring at Jade. “You know, kid, you remind me of somebody … but I can’t put a finger on who it is.”

Jean Margaux, Jade replied silently, her insides trembling. But she said nothing.

A long awkward silence filled the sumptuous room. Sam kept staring at Jade, as if trying to fathom her innermost secrets.

At last Indra said sharply, “There are people here in Selene who would not want to allow Sam to gain control of the orchestra.”

“The notorious Sam Gunn,” Satay murmured.

“That’s why I’ve got to be careful,” Sam said, still unable to take his eyes off Jade.

At last she found her voice. “There’s also the Beryllium Blonde, isn’t there?”

Sam frowned. “La Marlowe? She came all the way here to nail me with a phony breach of promise suit.”

“Breach of promise?” Indra’s dark eyes flashed.

“I never promised her anything,” Sam said, patting her hand. “She’s just a lawyer trying to make an ill-gotten buck.”

“What about Jill Meyers?” Jade blurted.

Sam’s eyes snapped wide with genuine surprise. “Jill’s here too?”

Realizing she had blundered, Jade tried to retreat. “She’s got more claim to marriage than the Blonde.”

With obvious irony, Satay asked, “Sam, are you perhaps a Moslem? How many wives can you have?”

“That is not funny, father,” said Indra.

Sam looked from father to daughter and then back to Jade. “You can see why I have to be careful,” he muttered.

The dinner ended on a definitely sour note. Jade excused herself at last and headed back toward her apartment, two levels above the hotel. As she walked disconsolately along the long, gray-walled corridor, she heard someone call her name.

Turning, she saw it was Sam pushing his way past a strolling elderly couple.

“Wait up a minute,” he said, hurrying toward her. “You can’t just walk away from me, can you?”

“Not from you,” Jade admitted. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” He seemed sincerely troubled that Jade was obviously so upset.

“You’re in real danger, Sam,” she temporized. “Marlowe and Jill Meyers both intend to get you to marry them. And Satay wants you to marry his daughter—or get out of her life.”

“I’ve been in trouble before. I can handle it.”

“But why—”

“Look,” he said, waving his arms as they walked along the nearly deserted corridor, “I cuddled up to Indra so I could get to meet her father. I need Satay on my side to help impress the committee that’s running the orchestra.”

“Impress the committee?”

“Those stuffed shirts think I’ll steal the orchestra and take it to the other end of the Milky Way or something. They don’t trust me!”

Jade started to laugh, but then she saw that he seemed genuinely hurt.

She said, “Can you blame them? Your reputation doesn’t put you on track for sainthood.”

“Aw, Jade! From you? You’ve followed my life and you know what I’ve done: the good, the bad, and the so-so. You think I’m a bum too?”

That made her smile. “No, I don’t think you’re a bum, Sam.”

“Half the things I’ve been blamed for I never did. Honest!” He clapped one hand to his heart and raised the other over his head.

“The other half is quite enough,” Jade countered. “You’re no saint, Sam.”

Breaking into a grin, he replied, “Who wants to be?”

They were only a few meters from Jade’s front door. As they walked up to it, Jade asked, “Sam, what’s your real reason for wanting to buy the orchestra? And how can you handle it, financially?”

“You going to invite me in?” he asked, with a sly grin.

“No.”

“Scared?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think.”

He cocked his head to one side, his grin slowly vanishing. “Okay. I’ll answer your questions, but not out here in the corridor.”

Jade knew she had to out-maneuver him. Thinking swiftly, she said, “Let’s do lunch tomorrow. There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“Not the Blonde.”

“No.”

“Not Jill?”

Smiling, Jade said, “I want you to meet Minerva La Guerre.”

“Never heard of her.”

“She’s heard of you,” Jade said.

He shrugged. “Okay. Lunch tomorrow. Where?”

“In her hotel suite. I’ll set it up.”

“High noon,” he said.

“You’ll answer my questions then?”

Another shrug. “We’ll see.”

Jade gave Sam a swift peck on his cheek, surprising him so thoroughly that he stood there with his mouth hanging open while she ducked into her apartment and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the door, breathless. He’s my father! Jade told herself. I know it. I can feel it.

With a glance at the security screen by the door she saw that Sam was slowly walking back up the corridor, in the direction they had come from.

Her insides trembling,Jade walked uncertainly to her desk. She sat tiredly on the spindly little wheeled chair and stared at the phone’s blank display screen. Then she nodded, her mind made up, and phoned Jill Meyers. After that, she called the Beryllium Blonde.