Exile From Xanadu, page 13
“If he knew so much,” said Carlo, “why was he not killed at the time of Plender’s death?”
“As I said, their relationship was kept secret. Plender trusted no one, and although Tecwyn admitted acting for Plender, he didn’t make this admission until some time after his client’s death. And that was the only admission he would make.” Sarwadi shrugged. “In law I was powerless to coerce him into revealing Plender’s secrets—”
“But you think—” began Regan.
“I think that he may tell you what he would not tell me,” said Sarwadi. “He must have known of any connection between Plender and the family of Cabrera, and, knowing that, he may be able to supply you with any information you want.”
“Where is this man?” demanded Regan.
“Softly, softly.” Sarwadi held up his hand. “I told you, I have a murder to solve.” '
Regan gestured impatiently. “All right. What do you wish from us?”
“Your promise that you will tell me anything that might help in closing this file.” He tapped the folder with one forefinger.
Regan glanced at Carlo, but the black man was studying the floor between his feet, and there was no help there. Carlo said, more plainly than by any spoken words, that Regan had to make his own decision. The black man had deduced the situation as far as he could, but beyond that point he could not and would not go. The decision was Regan’s. "Well?” insisted Sarwadi, gently.
“I will promise you this,” Regan said slowly, “you may be present while I talk to this man, Tecwyn, and you may ask anything that you think may help you. If it’s within my power I will answer you, but beyond that I cannot go. There is one assurance that I must have in return.”
“And that is?”
“That we shall not be kept here, on Cleomon, for any protracted legal proceedings that may result.”
Sarwadi studied them thoughtfully. “You are asking a greal deal.”
"I am offering a great deal as well.”
Sarwadi hesitated.
“I have nothing to hide,” Regan insisted. “My only interest is in the information that I hoped to get from Plender. Whatever that information is may still be valuable, even after two years, and I do not wish to have its value spoiled. If it will help you solve your crime,” he shrugged, “then it is of double use.”
Sarwadi nodded slowly. “Very well. I accept.”
“Good. Then where is this man, Tecwyn? When can I see him?”
Sarwadi smiled. “He is here, in the next office. You can see him now.”
XII
The man that Sarwadi brought into the office was small and white-haired, with a thin, pale face, and a stooped gait.
His eyes were bright and blue and beady, and they bored into Regan with a prescient gleam that was unsettling. Regan studied the man from behind his dark glasses, and decided that Plender had made an admirable choice, for Tecwyn looked what he was—a close-mouthed, hard-headed, quick- minded advocate.
After the brief introductions had been completed Regan said, “No doubt you are aware that I was to meet Arfon Plender here, on Cleomon, more than two years ago.”
“I had heard of it,” agreed Tecwyn amiably, “and, so far as I was aware, that meeting took place.”
The silence that followed blanketed the room like a cloud, and Regan felt his senses reel slightly with the shock that the implication of Tecwyn’s words engendered.
“What did you say?” whispered Carlo.
“I should have thought my meaning was quite clear,” replied Tecwyn precisely. “Someone came here who claimed to be Manuel Cabrera. Plender and he met, and their business was completed. I may say that the—ah—contract between them had been conducted over a period of several Terran years. The meeting of two years ago was the climax of a long period of negotiation.”
Regan felt his stomach churning as the bright eyes of the lawyer bore into him. The implication of Tecwyn’s surprising statement wasn’t lost on him, and if Tecwyn knew that Plender and Manuel had met previously then his masquerade as Manuel was ended before it was even begun. He wondered, with sudden panic, how much support and protection he would get from Carlo.
Sarwadi said quietly, “Then if this is true, who was the man who visited Plender two years ago?”
“His murderer,” said Carlo grimly. “He got what he wanted, and, later, he organized the removal of the only person who might have been able to upset his plans.”
“Then why did he wait so long before doing it?” asked the superintendent.
“Because Manuel was thought to be dead, killed in the Ferroval cruiser,” snapped Carlo. “And then, later, they found that he was alive. They did the only thing possible—they got rid of Arfon Plender.”
Regan felt thankfulness flood through him as the tension was removed; Carlo, too, had forseen the danger, and with consummate ease he had extricated Regan from the trap that seemed to be opening before him. Carlo was his ally! The black man’s position seemed to have changed a great deal over the past days, and Regan wondered if he, too, was getting involved in the thrill of solving the mystery, as Regan was himself.
“You knew the reason for that last meeting between Plender and myself?” Regan said to Tecwyn.
"Yes. It was to settle final details of your joint enterprise.” “And you were there?”
Tecwyn shook his head. “Plender conducted all his own business. I was merely his—ah—repository.”
“And you say that this final meeting was accomplished here, on Cleomon, between Plender and the—the stranger who took my place?”
“It was.”
“For the benefit of Sarwadi,” put in Carlo smoothly, "would you explain the details of the project.”
“If you wish, I will tell what little I know.” Tecwyn took a sheaf of papers from the case which he had brought with him. “It concerned an agreement reached between Manuel Cabrera and an alien race known as the Kaldori—”
“I have heard of them,” murmured Carlo.
“I should hope so,” snapped Tecwyn acidly, “since you were doing business with them. The documents handed to me state that Manuel Cabrera was acting on behalf of the family Cabrera.”
“You mistake me,” retorted Carlo easily. “The details of the business were kept a close secret, and although we knew the bare facts of what was involved the names of the parties concerned were kept secret from us—even my cousin, Manuel, did not know the full details. That was why the meeting whch you referred to was arranged with Plender.” “I see.” Tecwyn nodded in understanding, and Regan breathed again, thinking his stars for the agile brain of the black man. Without his nonchalant probing and easy, deceptive maneuvering Regan would have been lost within minutes—and he had sense enough to know it.
“As I was saying,” went on Tecwyn, “the Kaldori, under the agreement, ceded colonization control of two planets within their system to the parties represented by Arfon Plender, and in exchange they received guarantees concerning the exploitation of the two worlds.”
“I should explain,” put in Carlo, turning to Sarwadi, “that the Kaldori are a silicon-based life form.”
“That is so,” agreed Tecwyn. “They inhabit the fourth planet of the sun Alpha Regis—a cold world by any standards, but one which is well suited to their needs. They exercise control over the other five worlds of the system, but they have colonized only the fifth and sixth. The second and third worlds are quite unsuited to them from an environmental point of view, and yet they are interested in them because of the mineral wealth involved.”
“How did all this concern Plender?" asked Sarwadi.
“I am coming to that. Plender negotiated with the Kaldori for the family Cabrera to take control of these two worlds. They were to be handed over intact, complete with the extensive installations that the Kaldori had built over many years. These installations took the form of sealed cities and sealed work units of many kinds. The cost of building and maintaining them was enormous, and almost canceled out the economic benefits to be gained. Plender visited the Kaldori worlds several years ago during one of his many exploratory trips, and it didn’t take him long to realize that the planets concerned were ideal for colonization by Terrans! He decided to negotiate some form of Terran control with the Central Government of Earth—until the family Cabrera came upon the scene.”
“I think I can add a little to the story at this point," broke in Carlo, and for the third time in almost as many minutes, Regan marveled at the facility with which the black man maneuvered the situation so that they were placed on a more substantial footing. He knew that he himself could have made some good guesses on the strength of what Tecwyn had told them, but he knew, also, that he would never have had the nerve to put forward those guesses as actual knowledge in front of a man who was in the position of the lawyer. Yet Carlo did it—and almost convinced Regan by his facility.
“My cousin,” said Carlo, “had the idea of taking over these two planets from the Kaldori—though the actual race and the position of the worlds was not known to us—and using them for colonization purposes outside the sphere of the Terran government. In return for these planets there was to be a trading agreement with the Kaldori that would guarantee them a far better return than their previous unwieldy set-up. You must realize, Sarwadi, that a planet can only be successfully colonized by a race that can live in ecological harmony upon its surface without the need for the artificial trappings of its home world. That is why so many planets are useless to so many worlds. The cost of operating them on an economic basis is out of all proportion to the return which they achieve.
“That is why conflict between races is unnecessary when the only reasons for that conflict are the possession of worlds that cannot yield an economic return.”
“Quite so,” agreed Tecwyn. “And it was on such a basis that Plender worked for much of his life.”
“And that was the reason for his murder, you think?” asked Sarwadi.
Carlo leaned forward in his chair. “Plender had hit the jackpot, Sarwadi. A thing like this, on such a vast scale would set him up for life. It was the sort of El Dorado that ancient explorers dreamed about, and Plender had it, right there in his hands. Yes, I think that was why he was murdered.”
“Then the people responsible for his death are those that now control the two Kaldori worlds?”
“It seems a reasonable hypothesis.”
Sarwadi sighed. “Then the chances of finding the actual person responsible are almost nil.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Regan.
“Because they will have the backing of a vast organization,” snapped Sarwadi. “That orginization will be blameless —or, at best, too vast for us to fix the blame properly. Their agent will have been paid off, and may be anywhere in the Galaxy with no trail behind him that we might follow.”
Only now, as the silence followed Sarwadi’s pronouncement, did Regan feel the excitement stir within him. Only hours before the trail had been cold and dead, the chances that it would open before them had been remote in the extreme. Now it was open, a broad, straight road with mist only at the very end of it. So many pieces had fallen into place that the picture was almost complete and now Regan could see the whole of the great canvas that Manuel Cabrera had been working on.
Two new worlds with conditions that were Terran and an ecology that would support a Terran population. Ready-built installations that might, in detail, be alien, but which, in particular, could easily be converted for human habitation. Manuel had seen the picture early on and had worked towards it secretly, and with the vast resources of the family Cabrera at the back of him. It would have solved all the problems of Earth at one swoop as populations by the millions could have been lifted from the parent world and sent across the light years to the two Kaldori worlds. An agreement with the Terran government was all that would have been needed; the city state would have been broken by a strict control of population by laws that were already in force, and by the great outflow of colonists over the years to come.
Regan couldn’t even guess at the timetable which would be necessary to fulfill such a vast project, but with the large resources of Earth behind it, then millions of people a year could be sent to the new worlds; great areas of the city state would be depopulated, buildings tom down, and open lands restored. In five years the balance would begin to swing the other way; in ten, fifteen, twenty years, there would be three planets carrying the population now bome by one. And at the back of that dream the family Cabrera—with Manuel at its head—would have ridden to power undreamed of by previous generations.
The magnitude of the vision behind the plan awed Regan as he sat and considered it, and, as he considered it, the reasons for Manuel’s secrecy were made equally clear. Earth would cease to be greedy, her needs would diminish, the picture of the grasping Terran, raping the resources of the colony worlds would be killed. The tension and the hatred between the home world and the colony planets would be a thing of the past.
No wonder someone wanted to kill the idea before it took hold.
Regan felt suddenly cold even though the office was warmed by the sunlight that streamed through the window. If the plan went through, then the reasons for conflict would be gone—the ripe plum of Earth would not fall into the hands of the waiting colony worlds, for the cause of Terran demands would be removed; without those demands no one could stoke up the enmity that was necessary if the fires of conflict were to be brightened into the redness of danger.
Regan looked across at Carlo, and the grim expression on the black man’s face told him that the selfsame thoughts had crystallized in his mind also.
“Well, gentlemen?” asked Sarwadi, breaking the silence. “I have learned the reasons for the murder of Arfon Plender, and perhaps I may even be able to use them for clearing this file. Which leaves only one problem!”
“And what is that?” asked Regan.
Sarwadi chuckled. “That, I am happy to say, is not a question that I have to answer. The implications of what I have heard today are sufficiently large for me to realize that there are vast issues at stake, issues where the life of one man is not of very much importance.” He looked somberly at Regan and Carlo. “The problem I mentioned is in your hands, gentlemen, though what it is I cannot guess. The answer, too, is in your hands, and there again,” he shook his head sadly, “I do not even begin to know what it is.”
Carlo rose to his feet and Regan followed suit.
“There is one favor I would ask of you,” said the black man. Sarwadi spread wide his hands. “If it is within my power.” "Just how effectively can you control the communications link between Cleomon and other planets?”
Sarwadi considered the question for a moment, his eyes dark and appraising, then he replied, “If it will make you happier, I can promise you that there will be no contact between Cleomon and the outside galaxy that might have to do with the Kaldori and their system.”
Carlo smiled and bowed slightly. “Thank you, Sarwadi. That is all we wished to know.”
“Do I need to ask where you are going?”
Carlo glanced at Regan, and then returned the police officer’s slight smile. “No,” he replied. “No, Sarwadi, I don’t think you do.”
XXIII
Alpha regis was the brightest light in the heavens from the control bridge of the Cabrera vessel. It was a light that had been pointed out to Regan by Lahaye as they headed out from Cleomon, and it had grown steadily stronger and brighter during the whole five days of their leap across space.
Around them the great arm of the galaxy swirled and glistened; and, since Alpha Regis was a rim star, the blazing fire of the universe thickened and glowed away to the port side ship, while to the starboard the stars were thin spread, each one gleaming in apparent solitude.
As he gazed upon the glowing ember that was their destination, Regan felt the all too familiar tingle of excitement grow within him. It was a sensation that he had not known until six weeks earlier, but it was a sensation that had become so much a part of him that he wondered how he had lived for so many years without it. Back in the pseudohospital on Ferroval a new mind had been created as well as a new body, and he realized that he had risen like a phoenix from the pyre of the exploding ship.
“What are you thinking, Cousin?” Carlo’s voice stirred him from his dreams, and Regan nodded briefly towards the golden marble of Alpha Regis.
“I am thinking of another ship and another time, of a circumstance that saved my life—mine alone of all others aboard the Ferroval cruiser.”
“That—and more no doubt.”
Regan laughed harshly, and pointed to the'star that lay ahead. “There may lie my destiny, Carlo. Perhaps, soon, I shall know why I was spared. The old man believes in God and fate, and there are moments when I think he may right. This is one of them.”
They stood together in silence while the ship hummed and moved around them. Quadros, Lahaye and several others worked with muted voices, each of them showing the eagerness that had been generated by the precipitious departure from Cleomon. None of them knew the purpose of the journey, but all of them sensed the tension within Regan as well as the more easy anticipation of Carlo.
And Regan knew just how much he owed to the black man.
On Cleomon he had accomplished more in a few hours than Regan could have done in a week, and he had done it because of the inbred sureness and dynamic resolution that came only with a lifetime of observation and training. Old Cabrera had spoken of the secrecy, the treachery, the double- dealing that had, for centuries, ruled the lives of the family Cabrera, and Regan had sense enough to know that Carlo was a product of just such a system. Carlo, like Regan, had been tempered in the fires of reality, but in the case of the black man, that tempering had been longer and deeper, with results that showed themselves under such conditions as they had encountered on Cleomon. Carlo had thought of everything, and by his actions he had told Regan that this was his world—the Scene in which he was the main character, while Regan was merely a bystander, hanging on to his coat tails, and drawn inexorably into the whirlpool of his progress.
