Mag Force - Hung Out Part 39

The fur-draped figure cast a bored glance around the restaurant, obviously not impressed, and said, "Caligula Fox."

The maitre d' was startled, but accustomed to dealing with crisis situations. He replied in murmur, "So sorry, Chef Fox has not yet put in an appearancea""

"Yes, he has," said the figure, fixing the maitre d' with violet-drenched eyes. "I am Caligula Fox."

The maitre d' was shocked, appalled. He devoted a moment to recovering from this blow, then he murmured calmly and with immense dignity, "Chef Fox. You are needed in the kitchen. The service entrance isa""

"Kitchen?" Chef Fox's eyebrows arched. He was beyond amazement. "Whatever am I to do with a kitchen?"

"Cook in it, I presume," murmured the maitre d', slowly simmering. He beckoned and an attendant lord leaped to do his master's bidding. "Alfonse. Take Chefa""

The maitre d' paused. This appeared highly suspicious. He left Alfonse hovering and looked about for one of the ever-present wire-heads. A slight nod and a flick of an eyelid and the wire-head hastened over.

"This person claims to be Caligula Fox," murmured the maitre d'.

The wire-head looked Fox up and down, said calmly "It's him."

The maitre d' fixed the wire-head with an imploring gaze, begging him to change his mind. The wire-head shrugged and repeated, "That's him. We ran a computer check. Famous chef. Adonian. The other one in the raincoat. Alien. Pet."

Caligula Fox stood silently, untouched by this commotion, gazing vacantly at a bowl of yellow flowers.

"I beg your pardon, Chef Fox," the maitre d' murmured distractedly. "It's just that I a.s.sumed that you, being a chef, would like to partic.i.p.ate in the preparation of the food. Chef Fox?"

The small raincoated pet reached out a hand and tugged on Chef Fox's furry sleeve. Chef Fox gave a peremptory start and looked vaguely in the direction of the maitre d'.

"Food? Thank you. I could do with a bite."

At this point the pet appeared to be imparting information to Chef Fox, who looked extremely astonished. "Truly? The kitchen." Eyelashes flickered. "Well, suppose. ... How amazingly outr. Where is it, my good man?"

"The service entrance isa""

"No," Chef Fox said, quite calmly. And that was all he said.

"Alfonse," murmured the maitre d' faintly, "take Chef Fox ... to the kitchen."

Alfonse, quivering in horror, hastened forward, bowed, and indicated the way. Chef Fox and his companion prepared to follow.

"I am sorry," said the maitre d', "but your dog may not accompany you. Animals are not permitted in the restaurant. Board of Health regulations."

Chef Fox turned. His eyes, moist and unfocused a moment before, now glazed over and froze solid. "He is not an animal," Chef Fox said, and his voice was soft and yet hard and sharp, like a knife blade swathed in silk. "He is Rusty Love's dear friend and companion. You will show him to Mr. Love's table."

"I am sorry," said the maitre d' firmly. He might not have been so brave, but he was confident in the backing of the wire-head standing at his side. "He will not be permitted to enter."

The pet held an unspoken discussion with Chef Foxa"a proceeding which the maitre d', the waiters, and the secret police all found quite alien and therefore highly disgusting.

"If he is not permitted to enter this establishment," said Chief Fox, "I can say with the utmost a.s.surance that neither I nor Mr. Love will enter it."

Hernandez Valentino's could have borne up under the loss of Chef Fox, but Rusty Love was another matter. The terms were agreed upon. Chef Fox was led in fur-draped splendor to the kitchen, where he looked around in silent and profound amazement, as if it were the first time he'd ever seen such a place. The secret police searched Chef Fox, searched his clothes, searched the fur. The companion, also searched, was whisked off to the men's restroom, where he was sprayed with disinfectant and then escorted to Rusty Love's table, where the pet was admonished not to touch anything or breathe on anyone.

The maitre d' ordered one of the attendant lords to bring him a restorative gla.s.s of sherry, which he drank to calm his nerves. He resumed his post just in time to welcome Rusty Love, whoa"being only an hour latea"was considered by Adonian standards to be early. He apologized for such.

Word of the famous vid star's arrival spread through the restaurant, helped along considerably by the waiters, who increased their tips by pa.s.sing the news to all their customers. Even those who claimed to have no interest in a vid star turned their heads or craned their necks to see.

"You are mistaken, my dear," said Monsieur to Madam. "He looks nothing like His Eminence."

Madam could only agree.

Raoul had taken considerable pains with Rusty Love's makeup to ensure that this would be the case. Rusty Love's current hair was thick and batwing black; he wore it pulled back from his cla.s.sically chiseled face in order to emphasize the cla.s.sic chisels. His eyes were brown, tinted with flecks of gold, compliments of a few drops of pupil color enhancer. He was broad-shouldered, muscular, and his smile was warm and endearing.

That smile was his best point of acting. Rusty Love was an Adonian at heart, one might almost say the epitome of Adoniaa"self-involved, self-absorbed, cold-blooded, and calculating. He cared nothing at all for Raoul, and would not have come to his aid had not the dictates of Adonian social society required it. Even then, Rusty Love might have finagled his way around Adonian etiquette, but he thought his current vid shoot boring in the extreme and was glad for an excuse to take a break; never mind that his absence was costing the vid company billions.

Rusty Love was also intrigued by the element of danger, something he found quite diverting. Adonians do not react to danger as do other, more sensible races. They experience a small amount of fear, just enough to give them a mild adrenaline rush, which induces a pleasant feeling of excitement. There is no unpleasant clenching of the stomach, no unsightly perspiration on the forehead. The main reason for this apparent immunity to fear, so psychologists believe, s the Adonian ego. Adonians simply cannot believe that anyone or anything would want to harm them.

Robot cams surrounded Rusty Love, their lights providing a fitting halo for his exalted person. His bodyguards permitted the attention until the star himself reached the door to the restaurant, when the cams, which would have followed him inside, were driven away. Undaunted, the cams deactivated themselves and settled down on the lawn to await Mr. Love's departure.

The maitre d' prided himself on the fact that he treated Mr. Love with the same cool and intimidating reserve that he used for all the other guests. Mr. Love was welcomed. He was given the best table (in reality the second best table). The only condescension the maitre d' made to Rusty Love's star status was to personally escort him to his seat.

"Has Fox arrived?" Love asked negligently.

He was a.s.sured that Caligula Fox had put in an appearance and he had been taken to the kitchen.

"The kitchen?" Rusty Love found this highly amusing. "Fox in the kitchen. Imagine that," he said, and, giving his pet a pat on the fedora, Rusty Love deigned to be seated.

His bodyguardsa"enormous men, nearly four meters tall, built along the lines of an armored personnel carriera"took their places, standing behind him. The other patrons attempted to look as if they dined with vid stars every night of the week and either gave Mr. Love the faint smile of one who recognized him but couldn't quite place him or the beaming smile of one who had known him from infancy up.

"His Eminence will be honoring us with his presence this evening," murmured the maitre d' confidentially.

"Eminently, I trust," said Rusty Love, who was known throughout the vid world for his sparkling wit. He glanced around to make certain that his comment had been appreciated.

His bodyguards laughed, as did the other guests, who had no idea what had been said, but found it funny.

The maitre d' was not amused, nor were the secret police.

"Which Eminence would this be?" Mr. Love continued, cast an expert eye over the wine list. "I meet so many."

The maitre d' paled. "His Eminence, the ruler of Del Sol," he said, and in his indignation he spoke aloud. "He dines here frequently."

"Does he?" Rusty Love continued reading the wine list. "Does His Eminence know anything at all about wine?"

"His Eminence is expert in his knowledge," said the maitre d'.

"Then he must have his own private reserve," said Rusty Love, tossing the wine list contemptuously to one of his bodyguards. "There's not a decent bottle here. Bring me a bottle from His Eminence's stock. Have Fox choose it. He knows what I like."

The maitre d' could do nothing but bow and summon the wine steward.

Rusty Love, smiling in his most charming manner, began to peruse the menu.

CHAPTER 38.

He may live without booksa" what is knowledge but grieving?

He may live without hopea"what is hope but deceiving?

He may live without love a" what is pa.s.sion but pining?

But where is the man that can live without dining?

Owen Meredith, Lucile.

"You must take off your rings, Mr. Fox," said one of the wire-heads posted to guard the kitchen. "And give them to me."

"What rings?" Raoul asked innocently, wondering what in the universe the woman was talking about.

"Those rings, Mr. Fox," the wire-head said, pointing to the three emerald, two ruby, and six diamond rings that glittered on Raoul's fingers.

"My dear girl," Raoul protested most sincerely, "those are not mere 'rings.' These jewels are a part of me, my flesh, my bone, my blood. I could no more remove these that you so crudely term 'rings' than I could snap off my hand at the wrist. Still, thank you for thinking of me," Raoul added, pressing the woman's hand. "I a.s.sure you that they won't come to any harm."

"The rings, Mr. Fox," said the wire-head, and she held out a plastic bag. "Just put them in here, will you, sir? I'll write out a receipt, then shut them up in the safe in the manager's office."

"But..." Raoul's fingers fluttered in distress. "Why? why must you take my jewels?"

"Because, sir," said the wire-head with infinite patience, "there have been certain unscrupulous persons in the past who have been known to stash poison in rings and then drop that poison into the food. We can't be too careful where the life of His Eminence is concerned."

"Poison! You horrify me!" cried Raoul.

You're overacting, came the Little One's warning voice in his head.

I know what I am doing, my friend, Raoul returned silently. Trust me.

The mental equivalent of a snort sounded in Raoul's brain.

Shuddering, he pulled and tugged and, with tears glimmering in his eyes, he sadly and reluctantly removed his rings and dropped them in the wire-head's plastic bag. a.s.suming an air of haughty injury, he accepted the receipt and tucked it into his handbag, which was the next item to be confiscated and removed.

"Do you want my shoes as well?" Raoul demanded coldly. "After all, I might knock His Eminence over the head with the heel?"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Fox," said the wire-head, struggling to keep from smiling.

"Is that all?" he asked in martyred tones. "Just a couple of more procedures, Mr. Fox," the woman said apologetically. "First, are you going to be tasting any of the dishes?"

"Of course," Raoul replied with disdain. "How does one cook if one does not taste the food to ascertain if one has perfected the balance of herbs and spices?"

"Exactly, sir." The wire-head handed Raoul a clean doth. "Then I must ask you to remove your lipstick."

Raoul paused, sent a question flashing to the Little One. Do they know the truth, my friend? Do they suspect me?

No, came the Little One's reply. This is a standard precaution.

What do I do? Raoul was panicked.

Take off the lipstick, was the reply.

I will look hideous! You know how I absolutely fade away without it!

We have a higher purpose. We must sacrifice to attain our goal. Think of the poor dremecks.

Those dreadful coveralls. Yes. Raoul sighed. Accepting the handkerchief, he carefully removed the offending lipstick, although it was his favorite pearlized pink. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in a pot, he closed his eyes. I suppose I have no choice but to throw myself on the altar of haute couture.

"Now, if you'll just step through the scanner, Chef Fox, we'll let you get on with fixing dinner."

"Scanner?" Raoul eyed it with distaste. "What is that for?"

"Search for weapons, plastic explosives, small vials of poison concealed upon or inside the body."

"Inside! You are going to look inside me!" Raoul was horrified.

"It's routine procedure, Mr. Fox."

"It may be routine for you, but I have never been so insulted!" Raoul exclaimed, drawing back.

"It's routine procedure, Mr. Fox," the wire-bead repeated in somewhat grimmer accents. She was finally losing patience.

"It's no reflection on you. We all do it, Mr. Fox," whispered the sous chef. "Whenever His Eminence dines here."

"You poor dear." Raoul patted the sous chef's hand in the utmost sympathy, but he did not enter the scanner.

"I do it myself," proclaimed Chef Valentino.

Raoul bowed to indicate his admiration, but he remained standing in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by the staff.

The wire-head frowned. "Either enter the scanner, Chef Fox, or you will have to come with us to headquarters."

What's the matter? the Little One demanded. Go through the blasted scanner! What you're carrying won't show up.

I am aware of that, Raoul replied. If you must know, it's ... it's my undies. Dr. Quong lost them when he was doing the laundry and I was forced to wear a pair that does not matcha"

The Little One said something in return. Raoul didn't understand the meaninga"the Little One was apparently speaking in his own languagea"but the picture it conjured up in Raoul's mind was quite graphic.

I didn't know you knew things like that! Raoul said, shocked. That is the last time I let you go to the vids with Harry Luck. Raoul hesitated a moment longer. You're certain they won't notice?

Two more wire-heads stepped forward, obviously prepared to lay hands on him and remove him by force. Raoul submitted to the inevitable. "It seems I have no choice," he said bitterly, and, looking extremely dignified and uncaring, he walked through the scanner.

"Nothing. He's clean," said the policeman to his fellows, adding irritably, "What the devil was all the fuss about?"