Chapter 32

Narval’s rage spluttered from his lips in a viperous hiss as he pointed at a baffled Drummer. Brad, straight-faced behind Drummer, stood easy. Scarf, off to the side, stiff and erect, stared blankly at the wall behind Narval, his features twitching to depress a smirk.

“You were responsible for Camari’s emissary, Drummer. I’ve had you notified that I am ready to receive him. Where is he?”

“He’s disappeared, Mr. President.”

“So I’m told. What does that mean?”

“Your orders were to provide lodgings for the Ambassador somewhere other than the official guest house. I had no choice but to put him up at the Condor. When I was informed of the time that you agreed to see him, I went to the Condor to extend the formal invitation. He wasn’t there. I inquired of the Condor’s management and also among the citizens present. Several recalled him because of his unusual height, but no one, it seems, saw him leave.” Glancing toward Scarf, he added, “I immediately requested your Chief of Internal Security to put out search parties. That’s where it stands.”

Narval turned to Scarf.

“Well?”

Scarf stiffened.

“We’ve searched the city, Mr. President,” he said, “and can’t find a trace of him under the dome. But we had several unexplained killings a short while ago and I’m sure he’s involved. Two of my agents were gunned down on the street near air lock 43, apparently without reason, and their bodies were dumped down a utility access. Also, two of my guards, on special detail inside the air lock were killed. Add to that a communications blank-out swamped the same area about that time, and a space taxi is missing from the 43 ramp.

“We can’t get a tracer on the taxi; its automatic location signal is out, and it doesn’t respond to direct inquiry. All this, taken together, is very suspicious, and leads me to conclude the Ambassador skipped rather than meet with you.”

Brad’s eyes moved gravely from one speaker to the other.

“Drummer.” Narval turned back to him. “When you met with Camari’s Ambassador, what did you discuss?”

Drummer shrugged and stroked his chin.

“Just the routine chit-chat of protocol: small talk about the inconveniences of long hops and living out of traveling kits. Oh, yes, we expressed our hopes for a better future when Slingshot cuts in. That was about it.”

“Then why would he leave so abruptly?”

“I have no idea, Mr. President.”

“This incident does not please me, Drummer. A special envoy arrives from the UIPS, obviously carrying an important message to me from President Camari. He leaves before he delivers the message, with no advance notice. As he leaves he kills several Plutonian citizens and steals property. No, I don’t like it at all, Drummer.”

His fingernails drummed the desk. Suddenly conscious of what he was doing, he stopped and brought his hands close and inspected them for damage.

“Drummer, draft a personal message from me to Camari, complaining about the manner in which his Ambassador conducted himself on Planet Pluto. Accuse the Ambassador of murdering several of our citizens and stealing our property to escape our judicial process. Tell Camari his message to me, if he really sent one, was not delivered. That’ll throw the ball back to him. As far as I’m concerned, the matter is closed. I have far more important matters to discuss with you and Brad.”

He waved his hand at Scarf.

“Get on about your business.”

As Scarf closed the door behind him, Narval shifted his bulk. Placing both hands flat on the desk he studied each ring. He glanced momentarily at Drummer and fixed his eyes on Brad.

“I am not a fool,” he hissed as his features contorted into waves of quivering fat.