The Dark Lady

at the next table. “Did you have any luck?” he asked in a more relaxed tone of voice.
    “Yes,” I replied. “Mr. Abercrombie was able to obtain both pieces.”
    “And now you're trying to hunt down others featuring the same subject.” It was more a statement than a question.
    “That is correct.”
    “Well, you've gone about as far as you can with the library computer.”
    “How do you know what I asked the computer?”
    He smiled again. “I told it to notify me if anyone began asking questions about Mictecaciuatl and Kama-Mara.”
    “You spied on me!”
    “I wouldn't call it spying,” he said. “I have no idea what questions you asked, though I can make a pretty good guess. How many paintings did the computer identify for you?”
    I felt that he had no right to ask, but again, I could see no reason for not answering him. “Six.”
    “You discarded the Piranus sculpture?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good decision.” He exhaled deeply. “Well, six is all you're ever going to get out of this computer. And, to save you some wear and tear on your expense account, none of them are available.”
    “Have you purchased them yourself?” I asked.
    He chuckled. “Hell, no. I don't want them.”
    “I am afraid that I do not understand,” I said. “The first time I saw you you were trying to buy the Kilcullen painting for 400,000 credits.”
    “No, I wasn't.”
    “But— ”
    “I knew Abercrombie wouldn't let anyone outbid him,” he interrupted, looking inordinately pleased with himself. “I just wanted to see if there were any other interested parties.”
    “Why would you do that, if you have no interest in the paintings?” I asked.
    “I have my reasons.”
    “Might I know them?”
    He shook his head. “I don't think so, Leonardo.”
    “May I know why not?”
    “Because I have a feeling that you can't tell me anything I don't already know— yet, ” he added meaningfully. “When you can, we'll get together again. I might have a job for you.”
    “I am already employed by the Claiborne Galleries.”
    “I thought you said you were working for Abercrombie,” he said sharply.
    “So I am. But Claiborne is my official employer during my tenure here. Abercrombie is paying them for my services.”
    “I'll pay even better.”
    “Leaving Claiborne against their wishes would bring dishonor to my House,” I explained. “I could never do that.”
    “You won't have to leave them,” said Venzia.
    “I do not understand.”
    “Claiborne is one of the biggest art houses in the galaxy,” he began. “They've got branches on seventy-three planets— ”
    “Seventy-five,” I corrected him.
    “Seventy-five, then,” he said. “You hold forty or fifty auctions a year, and arrange God knows how many private sales.”
    “That is true,” I acknowledged. “But I fail to see how— ”
    “Let me finish,” said Venzia. “You have access to a lot of information about these auctions and sales.”
    “It is my understanding that you have recently purchased an art gallery,” I said. “Surely you have access to the same information.”
    “I need advance access,” he said, emphasizing the word. “In point of fact, I need you. ”
    “I could not even consider helping you,” I said firmly. “It would be unfair to the other potential bidders.”
    “I'm not a potential bidder.”
    “But you own an art gallery.”
    “There's not a single piece of art on the premises,” he replied. “It's just a mailing address on Declan IV.”
    “Then why... ” I began, trying to formulate my question.
    “Because I need the kind of information that an art gallery is privy to— but I'm finding out that large chains like Claiborne get it a lot faster than one-man companies.”
    “But if you don't want the artwork, what do you want?” I asked.
    “The names and addresses of the artists.”
    “Claiborne handles almost a million transactions a year,” I noted. “What could you possibly do with all those names?”
    “I don't want all of them,” he said. “Just the ones who painted the woman you and Abercrombie are so interested in.”
    “Why?”
    He smiled and shook his head. “Not until you have something to tell me that's of equal interest.”
    “I have nothing to tell you.”
    “But you will.”
    “It would be unethical.”
    “How?” he persisted. “I'm not trying to cut Claiborne out of its commission, or preempt any potential bidders. I just need information.”
    “I cannot— ”
    “Don't say no