The Rock Rats

CHAPTER 49

Humphries gave a party in his mansion for the delegates to the peace conference. Not a large, sumptuous party; just an intimate gathering of the handful of men and women who would meet the next morning in a discreet conference room in Selene’s office tower, up in the Grand Plaza. Pancho Lane was the first guest to arrive. Humphries greeted her in the sprawling living room of his home, with Diane Verwoerd at his side. Diane wore a glittering floor-length sheath of silver, its neckline plunging almost to her waist. Pancho was in a lavender cocktail dress accented with big copper bangle earrings and hoops of copper at her wrists and throat.

Humphries, wearing a collarless burgundy jacket over a space-black turtleneck shirt and charcoal slacks, smirked to himself. Pancho had learned a lot in her years on the Astro board, but she was still gawky enough to show up at the party precisely on time, rather than fashionably late.

Soon enough the other guests began to arrive, and Humphries’s servants showed them into the lavishly furnished living room. Willi Dieterling came in with two younger men flanking him; his nephews, he told Humphries as they exchanged introductions.

“May I congratulate you, sir,” Humphries said, “on your successful resolution of the Mideast crisis.”

Dieterling smiled in a self-deprecating manner and touched his trim gray beard with a single finger. “I cannot take all the credit,” he said softly. “Both sides had run out of ammunition. My major accomplishment was to get the arms dealers to stop selling to them.”

Everyone laughed politely.

Dieterling went on, “With the Mediterranean threatening to flood Israel and the Tigris—Euphrates rivers washing away half of Iraq, both sides were ready to cooperate.”

“Still,” Humphries said as a waiter brought a tray of champagne flutes, “your accomplishment is something that—”

He stopped and stared past Dieterling. Everyone turned toward the doorway. There stood Big George Ambrose with his shaggy red hair and beard, looking painfully ill at ease in a tight-fitting dinner jacket. On one side of him was Kris Cardenas, in Selene for the first time in more than six years. On George’s other side was Amanda, in a plain white sleeveless gown, accented with a simple necklace and bracelet of gold links.

Humphries left Dieterling and the others standing there and rushed to Amanda.

His mouth went dry. He had to swallow hard before he could croak out, “Hello.”

“Hello, Martin,” said Amanda, unsmiling.

He felt like a tongue-tied schoolboy. He didn’t know what to say.

Pancho, of all people, rescued him. “Hi, Mandy!” she called cheerfully, walking toward them. “Good to see ya.”

Humphries felt almost grateful as Pancho introduced Amanda, Cardenas, and Big George to Dieterling and his nephews. Then Doug Stavenger came in, with his wife, and the party was complete.

While his guests sipped champagne and chatted, Humphries called one of the waiters over and instructed him to change the seating in the dining room. He wanted Amanda at his right hand.

Two minutes later his butler came up to him and whispered in his ear, “Sir, Doctor Dieterling is supposed to be sitting at your right. Diplomatic protocol—”

“Protocol be damned!” Humphries hissed. “Rearrange the seating. Now!”

The butler looked alarmed. Verwoerd stepped in and said, “Let me take care of it.”

Humphries nodded to her. She and the butler headed off to the dining room. Humphries turned back to Amanda. She seemed to glow like a goddess among the chattering mortals arrayed around her.

Dinner was long and leisurely. Humphries was certain that the conversation was sophisticated, deeply significant, a fine way for the delegates to tomorrow’s meeting to get to know each other. Bursts of laughter showed that considerable wit sparkled around the table. Humphries heard not a word. All he could see was Amanda. She smiled now and then, but not at him. She chatted with Dieterling, seated on her other side, and with Stavenger, who was across the table from her. She said hardly a word to Humphries and he found it difficult to talk to her, especially with all these others surrounding him.

After-dinner drinks were served in the library-cum-bar. As midnight tolled on the antique grandfather clock in the corner, the guests began to make their farewells. Amanda left with Cardenas and Big George. Pancho stayed until everyone else had gone.

“First in, last out,” she said, once she finally put her glass down on the bar. “I never want to miss anything.”

Humphries let Verwoerd escort Pancho to the door. He stepped behind the bar and poured himself a stiff single-malt, neat.

Verwoerd returned, a subtle smile creasing her sultry lips. “She’s even more beautiful in person than her on-screen image.”

“I’m going to marry her,” Humphries said.

Verwoerd actually laughed. “Not until you get up the nerve to speak to her, I should think.”

Anger flared in his gut. “Too many people around. I can’t say anything meaningful to her in a crowd like that.”

Still smirking, Verwoerd said, “She didn’t have much to say to you, either.”

“She will. I’ll see to that.”

Picking up her half-finished drink from the bar, Verwoerd said, “I noticed that the other woman didn’t have much to say to you, either.”

“Doctor Cardenas?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve had our… differences, in the past. When she lived here at Selene.”

“She used to run the nanotech lab, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” Kris Cardenas had been shut out of her lab because of Humphries. He was certain that Verwoerd knew it; the feline smile on her face told him that she knew and was enjoying his discomfort over it. And his inability to say more than a few words to Amanda. She’s enjoying watching me turn myself into knots over the woman I love, he fumed silently.

“It’ll be interesting to see what they have to say tomorrow, if anything,” Verwoerd mused.

“Tomorrow?”

“At the conference.”

“Oh, yes. The conference.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Verwoerd.

“You won’t be there.”

Her eyes went wide for just a flash of a second, then she regained control of herself.

“I won’t be at the conference? Why not?”

“Because you’ll be in the medical lab. It’s time for you to be implanted with my clone.”

Verwoerd’s self-control crumpled. “Now? You’re going to do that now, with the conference and—”

He had just made up his mind. Seeing the smug superiority on her face had decided him. It’s time to show her who’s in charge here; time to make her realize she’s here to do my bidding.

“Now,” Humphries said, enjoying her shock and confusion. “I’m going to marry Amanda and you’re going to carry my baby.”