Wheels Within Wheels

IV

After two fruitless weeks on Jebinose, Easly went to Danzer to contact the local Vanek group. He still had his suspicions about Junior’s death and wanted confirmation directly from the mouth of a Vanek.

For Vaneks never lie.

It was easy enough to find one. The Vaneks had made a sort of shrine out of the place where Junior had died and there they mounted a constant vigil. In the fatal alley, in the center of a crude circle of stones, sat a lone Vanek beggar, humming and jiggling his broken salad bowl.

“Wheels within wheels,” he said as Easly approached.

“Sure,” said Easly, stopping outside the circle. “Uh, can I speak with you a minute?”

“Speak, bendreth.”

Easly squatted and looked at the Vanek. Pupils dilated from a long watch in the shade of the alley looked out at him from beneath hooded eyelids. The blue-tinted skin of his face was wrinkled and dusty.

This was one of the older Vaneks.

“I want to know about Junior Finch.”

The Vanek smiled. “He was our friend.”

“But he was killed.”

The smile remained. “Wheels within wheels, bendreth.”

“But who killed him?” Easly asked.

“We did.”

“But why?”

“He was our friend.”

Easly was getting annoyed. “But why did you kill a man who was your friend?”

“He was different.”

“How was he different?”

The Vanek shrugged. “Wheels within wheels, bendreth.”

“But why did you kill him?”

“He was our friend.”

“Oh, hell!” Easly muttered, rising and dusting off his knees. He realized he was wasting his time and turned away without giving alms. Damned if I’ll give them a cent.

How could you figure a bunch of alien half-breeds who kill the man who’s trying to help them, and then make a shrine out of the place where they murdered him?

He growled to himself and headed for his flitter. He had an appointment with Elson deBloise himself later in the afternoon and he didn’t want to be late. His favorite and most successful cover-that of an author researching a book-had paid off again. DeBloise was no different from any other public figure.

he couldn’t pass up the chance of having his name used as a source.

He spent most of the early afternoon going over his plan of attack. He expected to get little information from deBloise but at least he’d be able to size the man up in person. Larry Easly’s job was people and he could get a lot out of a personal conversation, even if the subject was the weather. And Josephine Finch wanted to know about deBloise and what he knew about her father.

He arrived at the plush home planet offices of the Sector Representative a little early and sat eying the receptionist until it was time for his appointment.

Elson deBloise gave him a warm greeting. “Well, Mr. Easly, what do you think of our fine planet?”

He was a big, puffy-looking man, but Easly immediately sensed a core of steel.

“Very nice,” Easly lied as he took the indicated seat.

“I understand you’re doing a book about Joe Finch, Jr.”

Easly nodded. “I was hoping I could get a personal glimpse of the man from your viewpoint.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t know him at all, never met him.”

“But that was quite an impassioned speech you made about him on behalf of the Integration Bill.”

“I didn’t have to know him to say what I did,” deBloise replied with a faint smile. “I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to bring equality to those less fortunate and he was trying to give the Vaneks a little dignity. He was going out on a limb for his fellow man. I understood him perfectly and I’m willing to bet that if he were alive today he’d be very active in the Restructurist Movement.”

Easly doubted that very much but kept his opinion to himself. “What about that Integration Bill, Mr.

deBloise? Would it have passed without Mr. Finch’s death?”

“Definitely-not with such resounding unanimity, of course, but it would have passed. That bill, by the way, was pending before he even arrived on Jebinose. I was its main sponsor.”

“And on the reputation you earned with that bill, you went on to successfully run for Planet Rep to the Federation, isn’t that correct?”

DeBloise paused and scrutinized his interviewer. “Is this book about me, or about Finch?”

“It’s about Finch, of course,” Easly said, flashing the most disarming smile in his repertoire. “But I want to get into the long-range effects of his stay and consequent demise on Jebinose.”

“Of course,” deBloise said, somewhat mollified. He had the distinct feeling of being under a microscope. This writer, Easly, had a manner about him which deBloise did not like. He’d have to run a check on the man.

The intercom buzzed and deBloise accepted the call with some annoyance. “I said I wasn’t to be disturbed during the next few minutes!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the receptionist, “but Mr. Proska is here and wishes to see you.”

The casual observer would have noticed nothing, but Larry Easly’s attention became riveted on deBloise.

At the mention of the name “Proska,” every muscle in deBloise’s body had stiffened and there was the slightest blanching of the skin, the slightest tightening of the mouth. The man’s body was transmitting fear, acute fear. His voice, however, was calm when he spoke.

“Tell him I’ll be with him in a moment.” He released the button and turned to Easly. “I’m sorry, but some urgent business has just come up and I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this interview short. I’m leaving for Fed Central tonight but I should be back in a few weeks; please make another appointment with my secretary.”

Easly said he’d be sure to do so. As he reentered the waiting room, he saw only one occupant besides the receptionist. A small, sallow, balding man sat with his hands on his knees. Easly was about to classify him as a timid nonentity until he caught a look at the man’s eyes. There was not a hint of timidity or even mercy to be found there. This was no doubt the Mr. Proska who struck such fear into the heart of Elson deBloise, powerful, secure, influential Elson deBloise. Mr. Proska must have some sort of hold over deBloise, something that terrified the man. Larry Easly suddenly became very interested in finding out just what it was. He started with the records at the Planet Center.

When the human race broke its Earth-shackles and reached out for new stars and the virgin planets that circled them, its fertility apparently trebled and its numbers grew in a geometrical progression. With interplanetary travel commonplace and interstellar travel a routine, planet-hopping became the rule rather than the exception and it was virtually impossible for one individual to find another. The problem was easily solved with the introduction of planetary record centers. Vital, identifiable statistics of all natives were kept on record, usually in a place near the major spaceport. Data such as date of birth, parents, education, employment record, present location and so on were kept in a file open to the public. Some people grumbled about the records as an invasion of privacy, but most realized that with billions upon billions of humans strewn about the galaxy, they were necessary.

It was to these files that Easly hurried as soon as he was out of the deBloise office complex. It was a slim chance, but Proska just might have been born on Jebinose. If so, Easly would at least have a starting point. In the Planet Center, he found a free computer station and punched in Proska’s name. There were only two people on record with that name. The first was deceased; the second had been born forty-four years before and still resided on the planet.

That was the one-at least the age was right. Easly checked down the list and noted that Cando Proska had attended the Jebinose psi school as a boy but had dropped out at the age of ten. That in itself was strange because people with psi talents are always in demand; even those with the most mediocre abilities are assured a good income for the rest of their lives. Proska must have talent or else he would never have been admitted to the school. Why did he drop out? He had held a routine office job until about fifteen years ago when he quit. No employment since then. Also strange.

That was the end of the record. Not much information, but Easly felt somewhat satisfied. Something had clicked in the back of his mind as he reviewed the information; he couldn’t place it right now-his mind often made correlations without immediately informing him-but he knew from experience not to push it. Sooner or later it would come to the surface.

He decided to take a look at Proska’s home and wrote down the address. It was a nice day so he rented an open flitter and punched in the address. To his surprise, the flitter took him to the outskirts of the city and into the center of an exclusive well-to-do neighborhood. It hovered over a large home of elaborate design and a red light flashed a warning that clearance was required from below before it could land. Easly took a closer look at the grounds and his trained eye picked up traces of a very effective and very expensive protective system.

“Not bad for a guy who’s been out of work for fifteen years,” he muttered.

He was about to start a slow circle for a better look when he noticed another flitter approaching. He took control of his own vehicle and moved off at an unhurried pace. The other flitter was closed with the windows opaqued. He watched it land in front of the Proska house and cursed himself for his carelessness in renting an open flitter. If deBloise had been in that flitter and had recognized him, Easly’s cover was in jeppardy. His policy in a situation such as this was to assume the worst. That being the case, he would have to hurry and make another inquiry and then, possibly, get off-planet immediately.

Easly had obtained another address before leaving the Planet Center, that of Jacob Howell. He now punched that address and gave his flitter full throttle. Howell had been in charge of the Jebinose Psi School at the time Proska had dropped out. Maybe he could supply another piece to the puzzle.

Howell was retired now and lived off his pension in a small apartment in the city. He seemed to be a lonely old man and welcomed Easly openly. Any company, even that of strangers, was better than sitting alone.

Easly decided on a direct approach. “Do you remember a student named Proska, Mr. Howell?

About thirty-four years ago, at the age of ten, he dropped out of the Psi School.”

Howell wrinkled his brow. “Proska?”

“Cando Proska.”

Howell nodded. “Yes, I believe I do remember him. The name isn’t familiar but it’s so rare that someone drops out of the school that I believe I know who you mean; Nasty business, that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, little Proska got into an argument with another boy whose name escapes me-it was in the psychokinesis lab, I think-and the other boy died right there on the spot. Proska blamed himself and would not return to the school.”

“What did the other boy die of?”

Howell shrugged. “We don’t know. His parents were from the farm region and were devout members of the Heavenly Bliss sect-we have a lot of them on Jebinose, you know-and they refused to allow an autopsy. It’s part of the Heavenly Bliss canon that the human body not be willfully mutilated.

It was known that the boy had some sort of congenital heart defect and that was assumed to be the cause of death. It was probably the excitement of his argument with little Proska that brought it on, but Proska could not be blamed. You couldn’t convince him of that, however. He considered himself responsible and never wanted to come back.”

Easly was interested. “Congenital heart defect? But that’s ancient history! Nobody walks around with that sort of condition anymore!”

“They do when the parents refuse to consent to surgery,” Howell said. “Mutilation, you know. If the same thing happened today there would be an autopsy, Heavenly Bliss sect or no. But we weren’t as well organized then as we are now. I wish we had insisted on an autopsy. Then little Proska would have been spared such a burden of guilt. It was a shame to lose him. I seem to remember that he showed promise.”

Easly’s mind turned this new information over a few times and looked for correlations. None. He rose and thanked Howell for his help. The man virtually insisted that he stay for dinner, or at least for a drink. Easly begged off and left feeling guilty for not repaying the man for his information with a little companionship. But time was too short, and instinct was prodding him to leave Jebinose immediately.

He shrugged it off. He was interested now, too interested to give up just yet. He had a tantalizing feeling that all the pieces were there; all he had to do was arrange them in the proper light. He started laying them out for examination. It was important to Jo to stop, or delay, deBloise and this Mr. Proska might well supply the lever with which she could apply some pressure.

First of all, deBloise was terrified of Proska. Proska was a psi who might possibly have caused the death of a boy at school as a child. He had never returned because of guilt. Why so much guilt? Unless he knew he had killed the other boy!

Could Proska kill with his mind?

Proska had a hold over deBloise and a big, expensive, well-protected house … and he hadn’t worked for the past fifteen years. Fifteen years … the Integration Bill was passed almost fifteen years ago…

The subconscious correlation his mind had made back at the Planet Center suddenly came to the surface: it was fifteen years ago that Junior Finch had been killed on this planet! And it was possible that Proska could kill with his mind … and Proska quit work fifteen years ago! And he had a hold over deBloise.

But that didn’t fit. The Vaneks killed Junior; they admitted it openly. And Vaneks never lie. And it was generally conceded that Junior’s death merely increased the margin by which deBloise’s pet Integration Bill was passed. So deBloise had nothing to gain from Junior’s death. Or had he?

Against his better judgment, Easly decided to pay another visit to the alley where Joe, Jr. had been killed. Perhaps the same Vanek would still be there. He would no doubt be as reticent as he had been earlier in the afternoon so Easly made a stop at his hotel room. This time he would be better prepared; all he needed now was the tiniest bit of cooperation from the beggar.

The sun was well below the horizon when he landed in Danzer and he made his way quickly through the darkened streets hoping that he would find the same beggar in the alley.

He did, Easly wanted an older beggar, one who might have known Junior personally.

“Wheels within wheels, bendreth,” the beggar greeted him. “Have you come again to meditate on our friend, Junior Finch?”

Easly nodded. “I would also like to meditate on someone else. His name is Proska.”

The beggar’s eyes remained impassive. “We know Mr. Proska but we do not fear him. We are not completely human and so his power is ineffective against us.”

“What power?” he asked with a start. He hadn’t expected such a direct answer.

“There are many powers in the Great Wheel,” the Vanek said. “Mr. Proska possesses quite an unusual one.”

“Yes, but just what is his power?”

The beggar shrugged. “Wheels within wheels, bendreth.

Easly knew right then that he would get little more out of the Vanek without some help. The evening breeze had yet to rise so he had to act now. He withdrew a cigar from his pocket and took his time lighting it. By the time the tip was glowing a bright red, he and the beggar were enveloped in a cloud of aromatic smoke. This was the effect Easly had wanted. He had a tiny vial of gas in his hand. He opened the nozzle and let it stream toward the Vanek. The gas worked as a highly effective tongue-loosener on humans but was not entirely odorless and colorless. Thus the improvised smoke screen. He could only hope the Vanek nervous system was still sufficiently humanoid for the gas to work.

It took only a few seconds for the vial to empty and Easly casually slipped it back into his pocket, allowing himself to breath again.

“What is Proska’s power?” he repeated.

“Wheels within wheels, bendreth, ” came the standard reply.

Easly cursed and was about to get to his feet when he noticed the beggar begin to sway.

“I am dizzy, bendreth. I fear it is the smoke you make.”

“I’m very sorry,” Easly said with the slightest trace of a smile. A mild dizziness was the drug’s only side effect. He ground the cigar out in the dirt.

“Maybe you didn’t understand my question,” he said carefully. “I want to know what kind of power Mr. Proska possesses.”

“It is a power of the mind,” the Vanek said, putting a finger to his forehead.

Now we’re getting somewhere, Easly thought with mental relish.

It was fully an hour later when Easly returned to his flitter and took to the air. Even with the help of the gas it had been hard work to pull any concrete information out of the beggar. The Vanek think in such a circumspect manner that you almost have to start thinking like them in order to get the answers you want. But Easly had his answers now and he wasn’t even going to stop at his hotel. First stop was the spaceport.

His expression was grim as he flew through the night. The mystery of Joe’s death and Proska’s diabolical talent had been cleared up. He shuddered at the thought of running into Proska now. The little man couldn’t kill with his mind as Easly had originally suspected. No, what Proska could do was much worse.

At the spaceport, Easly dropped the flitter off at the rental area and headed directly for the shuttle desk. He couldn’t afford to wait for a direct route to the sector in which Ragna was located. His immediate concern was to get off Jebinose; he could worry about getting to Ragna later.

On the way to the shuttle area he passed the subspace communication area and thought it might be a good idea to get a message off to Jo … just in case something happened to him. He entered one of the large, glass-enclosed booths, closed the door behind him and seated himself at the console. The information computer informed him that it was midday in Calmer City on Ragna. That would mean there was a good chance of catching Jo in her office. Easly put his identifying card in the slot and gave the desired destination of his call. A staggering price flashed on the screen but he pressed the “Accept”

button immediately. This would go on the expense account.

Jo was surprised when she learned that she had a subspace call from Larry Easly. He would make such a call only under emergency conditions so he must have something important to say. Yet in all the time she had known him, Easly had never said anything important unless it was face to face. She started to smile as his face appeared on the screen and then remembered that he could neither see nor hear her-subspace calls were strictly one-way affairs.

“Jo?” he said. “I hope that’s you on the other end. The indicator says it is, but I can’t be sure so please excuse the cryptic nature of what I’m about to say. First of all, as to your father’s end, there’s more here than meets the eye. The man you sent me here to investigate may well be involved, but there’s a new factor: a psi talent who … who-”

As Easly’s voice faltered, Jo noticed his face go slack. He swayed in front of the screen, seemingly engaged in a battle to keep his balance. Utterly helpless, Jo had to sit and watch in horror as his eyes rolled up into his head and he sank from view.

Picture transmission was not interrupted, however, and Jo anxiously watched the passers-by, hoping one of them would glance in and realize that something was wrong with Easly. One man did stop and look in the glass. He was small, sallow and balding. His hard little eyes seemed to rest on the spot where Easly had fallen, but he registered no surprise, made no move to help.

He merely smiled and turned away.