Fell frowned, thinking it over. “All right,” he said at last. They followed him inside. Hawk met them, bowed to the Baron, and escorted them formally up through the series of lift tubes to Lilly Durona’s penthouse. .
The word for it, Miles thought, rising past the chromium railing, was “tableau.” It was all arranged as perfectly as any stage setting.
Mark was the centerpiece. He sat back comfortably in Lilly Durona’s own chair, his bandaged right foot propped on a silk pillow on the low round tea table. Surrounded by Duronas. Lilly herself, her white hair braided today like a crown wreathing her head, stood at Mark’s right hand, leaning bemusedly on the upholstered chair back, smiling down beneficently upon the top of his head. Hawk took up position on Mark’s left side. Dr. Chrys, Dr. Poppy, and Dr. Rose clustered admiringly around them. Dr. Chrys had a large fire-extinguisher by her knee. Rowan was not here. The window had been repaired.
On the center of the table sat a transparent cold-box. Within it lay a severed hand wearing a big silver ring set with what appeared to be a square black onyx.
Mark’s physical appearance disturbed Miles. He had been braced to witness traumas of unnamed tortures, but Mark was covered neck to ankle in concealing grey knits like his own. Only the bruises on his face and the bandage on his foot hinted at the past five days’ activities. But his face and body were strangely and unhealthily bloated, his stomach shockingly so, more than the stoutly-balanced figure he’d seen here in Dendarii uniform just a few days ago, and far beyond the almost-duplicate of himself he’d tried to rescue from the raid on the clone creche four months ago. In another person, Baron Fell for example, the near-obesity wouldn’t have made him even blink, but Mark … could this be Miles himself, someday, if he slowed down? He had a sudden urge to swear off desserts. Elli was frankly staring, horrified and repelled.
Mark was smiling. A little control box lay under his right hand. His index finger kept pressure on a button.
Baron Fell saw the cold-box containing the hand, and started for it, crying, “Ah!”
“Stop,” said Mark.
The Baron stopped, and cocked his head at him. “Yes?” he said warily.
“The object you are interested in is sitting in that sealed box on top of a small thermal grenade. Controlled,” he lifted his hand with the remote in it, “by this dead-man switch. There is a second, positive-control switch in the hands of another person, outside of this room. Stun me or jump me, and it will go off. Frighten me, and my hand might slip. Tire me out, and my finger might give way. Annoy me enough, and I might just let go for the hell of it.”
“The fact that you have made such an arrangement,” said Fell slowly, “tells me you know the value of what you hold. You wouldn’t. You’re bluffing.” He stared piercingly at Lilly.
“Don’t try me,” said Mark, still smiling. “After five days of your half-brother’s hospitality, I’m in a real hostile mood. What’s in that box is valuable to you. Not to me. However,” he took a breath, “you do have some things that are valuable to me. Baron, let’s Deal.”
Fell sucked on his lower lip, and stared into Mark’s glittering eyes. “I’ll listen,” he said at last.
Mark nodded. A couple of Duronas hurried to bring chairs for Baron Fell and Miles; the bodyguards arranged themselves standing. Fell’s guards looked like they were thinking hard, watching the box and their master; the Dendarii watched the green-clad guards in turn. Fell settled himself with a formal air, half-smiling, eyes intent.
“Tea?” inquired Lilly.
“Thank you,” said the Baron. The two Durona children hurried out at her nod. The ritual was begun. Miles sat gingerly, and clamped his teeth together, hard. Whatever was going on here, he hadn’t been briefed. It was clearly Mark’s show. But he wasn’t entirely sure Mark was sane, right now. Smart, yes. Sane, no. Baron Fell looked like he might be coming to the same conclusion, staring across the tea table at his self-appointed host.
The two opponents waited in silence for the tea to arrive, sizing each other up the while. The boy brought in the tray, and set it beside the gruesome box. The girl poured just two cups, Lilly’s finest imported Japan Green, for Mark and the Baron, and offered tea cookies with them.
“No,” said Mark to the cookies in a tone of loathing, “thank you.” The Baron took two, and nibbled one. Mark started to lift his tea cup left-handed, but his hand was shaking too badly, and he set it hastily back in its saucer on the arm of Lilly’s chair before it could spill and scald. The girl slipped silently up to him, and lifted it to his lips; he sipped and nodded gratefully, and she settled down with the cup by his left knee to serve again at his word. He’s hurt one hell of a lot worse than he’s managing to look right now, Miles realized, his stomach cold. The Baron looked at Mark’s trembling left hand, and more dubiously at his right, and shifted uneasily.
“Baron Fell,” Mark said, “I think you will agree with me that time is of the essence. Shall I begin?”
“Please do.”
“In that cold-box,” Mark nodded toward the severed hand, “is the key to House Ryoval. Ry Ryoval’s, ah, secret decoder ring.” Mark cackled loudly, bit back the laugh, and nodded to the girl for another sip of tea. He regained control of his voice and continued. “Embedded in the ring’s crystal are all of the late Baron Ryoval’s personal code-keys. Now, House Ryoval has a peculiar administrative structure. To say that Ry Ryoval was a paranoid control freak would be a gross understatement. But Ryoval is dead, leaving his scattered subordinates at scattered locations without their accustomed direction. When the rumors of his death reach them, who knows what they will do? You’ve seen one example.
“And a day or two from now, the vultures will be flying in from all over to tear at the carcass of House Ryoval. Possession is rather more than nine points of the non-existent law around here. House Bharaputra alone has obvious congruent interests in House Ryoval’s wares. I’m sure you can think of others, Baron.”
Fell nodded.
“But a man who had Ryoval’s own code-keys in his hand today could be at a considerable advantage,” Mark went on. “Particularly if he was well-supplied with personnel to provide material back-up. Without the tedious delays of cracking Ryoval’s codes one by one, he could put himself in position to take immediate control of most or all of House Ryoval’s current assets, from the top down instead of piecemeal. Add to that a well-known tie of blood to lend legitimacy to his claims, and I think most of the competition would sheer off without need for any expensive confrontation at all.”
“My half-brother’s code-key ring is not yours to trade,” said Fell coldly.
“Oh, yes it is,” said Mark. “I won it. I control it. I can destroy it. And,” he licked his lips; the girl raised the teacup again, “I paid for it. You would not now be offered this exclusive—and it is still exclusive—opportunity if not for me.”
The Baron gave a very tiny nod of concession. “Go on.”
“What would you say the value of the Durona Group is, compared to the value of House Ryoval’s current assets? Proportionally.”
The Baron frowned. “One-twentieth. One-thirtieth, perhaps. House Ryoval has far more real estate. The, er, intellectual property value is harder to calculate. They specialize in rather different biological tasks.”
“Leaving aside—or leaving behind—the real estate. House Ryoval is clearly enormously more valuable. Facilities, techs, slaves. Client list. Surgeons. Geneticists.”
“I would have to say so.”
“All right. Let’s trade. I will give you House Ryoval in exchange for the Durona Group, plus value in a bearer-paid credit chit equal to ten percent of the assets of House Ryoval.”