Prophet by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page B

strictly here. If there is to be violence, it would be most unfortunate for all parties concerned if it were to occur in the Blue Pavilion.” He looked meaningfully at the security cameras, which were clearly visible above each table.
    "I'll keep that in mind."
    "Thank you, Mr. Lomax."
    The man retreated toward the kitchen, and Lomax took a sip of his juice, then made a face.
    "Is something wrong?” asked the Kid.
    "I've tasted this before,” said Lomax. “Some kind of mutated citrus from the Altair system. It probably costs more than your champagne, but I can't stand the stuff.” He pushed the glass to the middle of the table. “You want it?"
    The Kid shook his head. “I'll stick with what I've got, thanks."
    "That's up to you,” said Lomax.
    The Kid downed half his glass in a single swallow. “Good stuff."
    "You ever drink champagne before?"
    "Sure,” said the Kid defensively. “Lots of times."
    "Yeah, I could tell by the way you gulped it down.” Suddenly Lomax tensed. “Take a walk, Kid."
    "What?"
    "You heard me."
    "Why? What's going on?"
    "I think I'm about to have a visitor,” said Lomax, staring at a dapper, middle-aged man who was making his way across the floor toward their table.
    "I'd rather stay."
    Lomax stared at him. “All right. But you don't say a word, you don't contradict anything I say, and you don't make any sudden movements."
    "You got it."
    Lomax studied the man as he approached them. He was of medium height and build, with meticulously groomed gray hair and mustache, pale blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. There was a bulge in his pocket that he made no attempt to hide, but if it was a weapon it looked like it would be very difficult to withdraw it without a great deal of fumbling around.
    "You are Mr. Lomax?” asked the man, coming to a stop behind an empty chair.
    "That's right. And this is my associate, Mr..."
    "The Silicon Kid,” interjected the young man.
    "I don't believe I've heard of you, sir,” said the man.
    "You will,” responded the Kid.
    "I am Milo Korbekkian. May I sit down?"
    "Please do,” said Lomax.
    Korbekkian seated himself. “Do you mind if I smoke?"
    "Be my guest."
    The dapper man lit up a thin cigar, and Lomax wrinkled his nose.
    "It contains a mild stimulant,” explained Korbekkian. “The odor is an unfortunate side effect. I can put it out if you wish."
    "Suit yourself,” said Lomax. “I can stand it if you can."
    "Then, with your kind permission, I shall continue to smoke.” Korbekkian leaned forward slightly. “I understand that you are an acquaintance of Jason Cole's?"
    "That's right."
    "Dear Jason,” said Korbekkian, signaling to a passing waiter to bring him a drink. “The last I heard of him he was leaving for some little world on the Inner Frontier.” He paused. “How is he getting along?"
    "About as well as most corpses, I suppose."
    "Poor boy,” said Korbekkian with no show of surprise or regret.
    "You should never send a boy to do a man's job,” continued Lomax.
    "Oh?"
    "He never had a chance against the Iceman.” Lomax stared into his eyes. “Neither did the other three you sent."
    "What other three?” asked Korbekkian innocently, as his drink arrived.
    "Mr. Korbekkian, we're never going to come to a satisfactory arrangement unless we put our cards on the table. I know you've sent four men to kill the Iceman. I know that all four are buried on Last Chance."
    "Assuming that I did send four men out there, why should the notorious Gravedancer—if I may use your professional sobriquet—come all the way to Olympus to tell me that they've failed?"
    "You can keep wasting your money sending cannon fodder out after the Iceman,” said Lomax. “Or,” he added, “you can buy the best, and get the job accomplished."
    The Silicon Kid seemed about to say something, but Lomax stared him down.
    "I see,” said Korbekkian, finally lifting his drink to his lips and downing it in a single swallow. “You have come seeking employment."
    "I've come to