"Why not a telepath?" asked Kinoshita after they had taken off and were heading deeper into the Inner Frontier.
"Find me one and I'll hire him," responded Nighthawk, relaxing in the pilot's chair.
"They say the Domarians are telepaths."
"They're aliens."
"They have less reason to fear or distrust you than most humans."
"Swans swim with swans, ducks swim with ducks," answered Nighthawk.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means I'll attract enough attention with a Balatai."
Kinoshita turned to the Balatai woman, who was sitting near the navigation tank, watching holographs of the ship making its way among the stars of the Inner Frontier. "I meant no offense," he said. "But my fortune is intertwined with his, so I want him to have the best chance."
"I know," she replied. "You don't believe it, Mr. Kinoshita, but reading your emotions isn't very different from reading your thoughts."
"It isn't?"
"Nine times out of ten."
"And the tenth time?" asked Kinoshita.
She smiled. "That's why he's the Widowmaker. Because the tenth time can get messy."
Kinoshita stared at her for a long moment and finally nodded his approval. "You'll do," he said decisively. "What's your name?"
"What name do you like?" she responded.
"I didn't realize it was up to us."
"Choose one."
"Melisande," said Nighthawk.
"Fine," she said. "Then I'm Melisande." She paused. "Who was she?"
"Nobody very important," said Nighthawk.
"Your emotions say you're lying," said Melisande. She turned to Kinoshita. "Perhaps you'll tell me."
"She was the woman who betrayed his predecessor," said Kinoshita.
She turned to Nighthawk. "Do you expect me to betray you?"
"No."
"Then why—?"
"It's a pretty name. I thought you might redeem it."
"In that case, I'm honored."
Kinoshita studied Nighthawk carefully, and finally spoke. "First Hernandez and now Melisande. I think you'd be better off if you forgot about the previous Nighthawk's life and concentrated on your own."
"I'm an orderly man with an orderly mind," answered Nighthawk. "I'm just taking care of the things that affect all Jefferson Nighthawks."
"I'd concentrate on Ibn ben Khalid if I were you."
"If you were me you'd be six inches taller and a hell of a lot faster with a gun—and you'd be an orderly man."
"It seems to me that an orderly man wouldn't proceed without a plan. How do you intend to make contact?"
"The simplest and most efficient way possible."
"Jeff—your predecessor—shot up a bunch of the Marquis of Queensbury's men and offered himself as their replacement," noted Kinoshita. "I seem to remember from the reports that he also fought the Marquis to a standstill."
"My predecessor was three months old," said Nighthawk. "He can be forgiven for his methods."
"So what do you plan to do?"
"I plan to use the tools at my disposal."
Kinoshita frowned. "Your weapons?"
"God gave you a brain," said Nighthawk irritably. "You offend Him when you refuse to use it."
"Why don't you just tell me what tools you're going to use and stop insulting me?"
Nighthawk stared calmly at him. "I'm going to use you and Melisande, of course."
"How?"
"She'll enter a bar or a restaurant and sit down alone. A few minutes later you and I will come in and sit elsewhere. After we've had a drink or two, we'll start discussing Ibn ben Khalid, and we'll make sure we're overheard. I'll praise him to the skies, you'll argue that he's the worst kind of slime—and Melisande will read the emotional reactions. When she finds one that's strong enough, we'll assume he's working for Ibn ben Khalid and I'll follow up on it."
"If he doesn't kill me first," added Kinoshita ruefully.
Nighthawk shrugged. "You want to come along. That's the chance you take when you play for high stakes."
"I'm not playing for them," Kinoshita reminded him.
"Of course you are," said Nighthawk. He leaned forward on his seat and stared intently at the smaller man. "Do you really think I haven't figured out that you're here to keep an eye on me for Dinnisen, and that you're to report to him the second it looks like I might wander off the reservation?"
"There no sense denying it," said Kinoshita. "Sure I'm being paid to keep tabs on you—but I just look on it as found money. I can't stop you from doing anything you want to do. Hell, I wouldn't if I could. Like I told you, I'm a fan."
"I know that," said Nighthawk. "But you'd better understand that there'll come a day when you'll have to choose between me and your employer."
"Easy choice. Dinnisen can't kill me; you can." Suddenly Kinoshita grinned. "You see? I do have an orderly mind."
"In the meantime," continued Nighthawk, ignoring his companion's attempt at humor, "I'll dictate your reports back to Deluros VIII."
Suddenly Melisande spoke up. "You're good, Widowmaker!" she said admiringly. "You don't need me. Hell, you don't need anyone!"
"I'm flattered that you think so, but I know what I need. My job is to kill Ibn ben Khalid. Let's suppose, just for the sake of argument, that he has a million followers; that's just a tiny drop in the bucket when you consider that there are almost two trillion men abroad in the galaxy. But it means the odds are a million-to-one against me. If you can lower the odds, then I'll use you."
Melisande broke in. "So where are we going?"
"I'm not sure yet. Deeper into the Frontier."
"Any world in particular?"
Nighthawk shook his head. "I don't suppose it makes much difference—except that I don't want to set down on any world where my predecessor landed."
"Why not?"
"Just in case he wasn't as efficient as I am."
"I don't follow you."
"He may have left some enemies alive. I won't know who they are, but some of them might recognize me. That's a suicidal situation, and if the Widowmaker was suicidal, he would have taken his life when he contracted eplasia rather than freezing himself on the slight chance that someone would effect a cure."
"You have eplasia?" she asked, backing away.
"Do I look like I have eplasia?" he asked.
"Your flesh says no, your emotions say yes."
"That's because my flesh doesn't know it yet," replied Nighthawk. "It's in the very early stages. You won't be able to notice it for another year or two—and by that time I'll be dead or cured."
"You should have told me before I agreed to come with you," said Melisande.
"It's like cancer used to be—deadly, but not contagious. You may contract it someday, but you won't catch it from me."
She stared at him for a moment, then relaxed. "Okay, you're telling the truth." She paused. "As you know it, anyway."
There was a high-pitched beeping sound.
"What was that?" she asked, as Nighthawk got to his feet and walked to the galley.
"Time for another shot of whiskey," he said, pulling out a bottle and taking a swallow.
She frowned. "You have to remind yourself to drink?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," answered Nighthawk.
"I don't understand."
"I woke up a month ago in a body that had never had a drink of alcohol. I work in a profession where a lot of information gets traded in taverns. The first few times I took a drink I was giddy and uncoordinated for an hour afterward. I'm trying to get my system used to it, so a few shots of whiskey won't affect my judgment or my reflexes."
"You're a very careful man."
"The graveyards are full of careless ones."
"Someone ought to collect your little homilies and put them in a book," she said with a smile.
"Are you volunteering?"
"Not me. My talents lay in other directions." Suddenly she looked around. "Where do I sleep?"
"We'll probably be two or three more days before we touch down," said Nighthawk. "How about a Deepsleep machine?"
She shook her head vigorously. "I don't trust them."
"I can vouch for at least one of them working for over a century."
"Not interested."
"All right," replied Nighthawk. "There are two cabins. You can have mine, and either Ito or I will sleep out here in the control room."
"Thank you," said Melisande. "Where is it?"
"You've already been to the head. Mine is the door just past it on the left."
"Just making sure. I wouldn't want to open it and find myself bumping into the nuclear pile."
She walked to the door, waited for it to melt before her, and walked into the cabin while the door quickly reconstituted itself behind her.
"You know," said Nighthawk, sitting down and ordering his chair to fold around him, "I could use some sleep myself."
He closed his eyes, and was soon breathing regularly.
I don't know, thought Kinoshita, looking at the Widowmaker with concerned eyes. This guy is obsessed with the first clone. He seems stable enough, but I wonder . . .
Suddenly he was aware of Melisande, standing in the doorway to her cabin.
"I read your concern," she said softly.
"It's a legitimate one," answered Kinoshita.
"Then let me address it: Jefferson Nighthawk is as normal and well-adjusted as any man I've met."
She turned and went back into her room.
That's a pretty comforting statement, thought Kinoshita. Until I remember just what kind of men you've been meeting . . .