KILLER PLANET
Chapter 4. Sir Weyden’s scorn

Under a gray sky, on a Magnesium City -Tennis-Club-Court, Anaximandra and Severus played a tennis game. The yellow balls bounced from side to side at the calmed pace of the amateur players. Although the atmosphere was foggy, sprinkled with a slight drizzle, both players seemed to be enjoying it, their bodies sweating profusely, as in one of Rouk[9]’s photographs of the Martian landscape before the post-Orian terrestrial colonization. Fabio and Martha, sitting by the side of the garden, watched at them with a chess board table amidst them. A wave of crows squawking grew in intensity. Martha distinguished them by landing on the branches of the surrounding birches.

“What an ominous omen,” she thought.

“Severus hits the ball in style,” said Fabio.

The game ended and Anaximandra approached her table, rinsing her face with a small white towel. Severus hastily caught up with her as a bodyguard forced to take care of his main employer.

“Martha!” Severus exclaimed, pulling out his sweaty shirt, exposing his 6-pack abs. “What a nice surprise! You have chosen the best time to visit us.”

“Monsieur Saint-André,” Anaximandra said, offering her hand.

“Forgive me if I irritate you with my surprise visit,” Fabio replied, taking her hand in his palm and kissing the air on her knots.

“I won’t get irritated,” Anaximandra said with a nervous chuckle, “as long as you don’t treat me as a suspicious murderer.”

“My excuses,” Fabio apologized again. “I learn my Martian customs from the crime magazines my parents imported from the Earthly Asteroid Belt Sidereal Station.”

“Is that why you see a murder in a suicide?” Anaximandra said.

“I didn’t see you at your sister’s funeral,” Martha chimed in.

“Let the dead bury their dead,” Anaximandra said gravely. “I was furious. Cleopatra wanted to ruin my honeymoon and, in fact, she did it. We have postponed it for the three months of protocol duel.

“Three months of mourning,” said Severus. “An admirable sacrifice for such a remarkable and wealthy girl!

“Can I ask you some stinging questions?” Fabio asked.

“I’m available for you at any time,” Anaximandra said without looking at him, stroking her long hair.

“We heard that Cleopatra was planning to marry her fiancé,” Martha commented, “Hernan Sousa.”

“Oh!” Severus exclaimed. “The Mercurian Player? Or, where was he from? Any region near the central Venusian Islands, where thugs are made heroes and honest people are incarcerated?”

“From north Mercury,” Martha replied.

“Is he not from south Mercury?” Severus objected.

“From north Mercury,” Martha stood firm.

“Whatever,” Anaximandra said, “from Mercury.”

“On this planet we distinguish those regions,” Severus snapped. “South Mercury didn’t support us in our revolt.”

“You will be surprised,” Fabio replied, “to learn of the diplomatic contribution of Mercury’s southern hemisphere to your planet., during the peace agreement with the Orions in Titanium City.”

“Bullshit,” Severus said.

“It would do you good to change your mindset, Severus,” Martha chimed in.

“For what purpose, mademoiselle?” Severus replied. “Aren’t the inhabitants of mercury the only ones who call themselves universals?”

“We all are universals,” Martha agreed, “but they are the only ones who demand to be called so, just like the legendary twentieth-century Americans, who demanded to be called Americans.”

“Don’t discuss history with Martha,” Fabio intervened. “Since the age of eight, she has read one book per week about history.”

“Do you teach a particular subject, Martha?” Severus asked. “I mean, at universities?”

“When they invite me,” Martha replied.

“What plans do you have for next Friday?”

Martha looked puzzled at him.

“Titanium City University,” Severus continued, “asked to lecture on Neptune.”

“All information about my planet has sidereal access,” Martha agreed.

“I’d like to invite you for dinner, just to talk about that.”

“Do we have any plans for Friday?” Martha asked Fabio.

“I’ll reread Schopenhauer,” replied her husband. “Old Arthur has an essay on women that I really love.”

Martha smiled with bitter sweetness, for they have already discussed Schopenhauer’s misogyny on several occasions.

“You can come with us,” Severus smiled. “Or would you allow your lady to accompany us without you, Monsieur Saint-André?”

“I trust my wife,” said Fabio.

And immediately, turning to Anaximandra added:

“Do you think your family would have been ashamed of Cleopatra marrying a stranger?” A foreigner from another world?”

“Nonsense,” Anaximandra replied.

“Nonsense?” Fabio questioned her.

“Like you,” Anaximandra smiled, “and unlike most people, I don’t accept the idea that Cleopatra committed suicide.”

“Who do you suspect, then?”

Anaximandra’s complacent gaze turned sour in a split of a second.

“Should I suspect someone?”

“You implicated that,” Fabio’s face turned slightly pink.

“I can’t accept the fact that my sister is dead,” Anaximandra exclaimed suddenly, as in a fit of passion. “Poor Cleopatra!”

“You were upset with her a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not upset!” Anaximandra yelled. “Although we never got along well, we loved each other, in our own way!”

“Of course,” Fabio nodded. “That’s why I understand why two minutes ago, you blame her for ruining your honeymoon.”

Anaximandra laughed nervously.

“You know what happened to the diamond,” Anaximandra continued. “It was not my fault. I didn’t want to blame her. We lost it and ...”

Anaximandra’s face expressed anguish, seized by a sudden remorse.

“But you found it,” she got a grasp of herself. “We really thank you, because that’s how you proved Cleopatra’s innocence.”

“For your family,” Fabio replied sharply. “Now it’s time to demonstrate that her innocence was never betrayed by the temptations of power, fame, money or melancholy.

“What do you mean with ‘melancholy’?” Severus asked.

“Suicide, Sir”.

“Isn’t it a manifestation of free will?” Severus asked. “Why do you see something wrong in suicide?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with taking your own life,” Fabio replied, “but, I’m afraid society does.”

Anaximandra abruptly lit a cigarette, inhaled it, and stood up, exhaling smoke out of reach of the others, on the edge of the tennis court.

“I support you, Fabio,” she said.

The statement echoed in Fabio’s mind like a challenge or an irony.

“I’m just asking you,” Anaximandra added, eyeing Fabio’s tall, olive figure from head to toe, “to present us irrefutable evidence.”

“Did Cleopatra tell you about her future plans to move to Saturn forever?” Martha asked in a conciliatory tone.

“Absurd!” Anaximandra exclaimed. “Of course, no!”

“She had been accepted to Saturn University’s business administration program.

“That can’t be,” Anaximandra’s eyes darkened like black coals. “That man, Sousa ...”

Anaximandra kept her face thoughtful, filled with uncontrollable emotion.

“He was her priority,” Martha finished her sentence. “Is that what you meant?”

“Maybe Cleopatra wasn’t his,” replied Severus.

Minutes later, Fabio and Martha entered their robotaxi. A tense silence was reflected on their faces.

“Have we come to the same conclusion?” Martha asked.

“It’s too early to entertain a theory,” Fabio mused. “We should find out more about Cleopatra’s relationship with Mister Sousa.”

A Gravilimusine Benz slowed down from an opposite air column. Fabio identified Sir Weyden at the wheel and Severus on his side seat. Sensing trouble, Fabio smiled as the vehicle pulled down next to him.

“Sir Weyden!” Fabio said, tilting his forehead slightly.

“I am beginning to believe that your wife is pursuing me,” Sir Weyden snapped. “Who invited you?”

“Your latest wife,” Fabio smiled mellifluously. “She wanted to tell us how you had to postpone your honeymoon for, how long was that she said, darling?”

Martha shrugged her shoulders.

“A few months?” Sir Weyden replied with suspicious eyes.

“Five months?” Fabio asked rhetorically. “What a tragedy!”

“If Anaximandra said five months,” Sir Weyden nodded, “it will be 5 months. We both have the rare privilege of traveling, if we wish, to anywhere in the universe.

Fabio fell into a deep silence.

“I mean,” Sir Weyden cleared his throat, “to travel in o I have even considered investing £ 100 billion in a private mini-teleport station in Titanium City. Isn’t it true, Severus?

Severus nodded complacently.

“Haven’t you heard of new models just thirty meters in diameter being produced on Saturn?”

“They have not yet been certified as safe for human life,” Fabio replied with a paternalistic air. Otherwise, they only cover a radius of three planets. I doubt they will be useful to you on your journey to Andromeda.ur imagination.”

Fabio nodded somewhat perplexed.

“Of course. Still planning to travel to Parnasus, in the Andromeda Galaxy?

“Did Anaximandra tell you?” Sir Weyden asked, blushing with anger.

“We found that out at the sidereal teleportation agency,” Martha chimed in.

“And I thought you Neptunians only sunbathed on the beach,” Sir Weyden smiled.

“I noticed that your tickets to Parnasus were flexible up to the date of the teleportation,” said Fabio. “How lucky! You will not have to pay for another ticket! Each trip costs about ...

“Twenty gravilimusines like these,” Sir Weyden cut him off.

“True…”

“You are not used to dealing with millionaires,” said Sir Weyden. “Our problem is not in getting money, but getting rid of it. I have even considered investing £ 100 billion in a private mini-teleport station in Titanium City. Isn’t it true, Severus?

Severus nodded complacently.

“Haven’t you heard of new models just thirty meters in diameter being produced on Saturn?”

“They have not yet been certified as safe for human life,” Fabio replied with a paternalistic air. “Otherwise, they only cover a radius of three planets. I doubt they will be useful to you on your journey to Andromeda.”

“I will be plain and simple with you,” Sir Weyden’s voice grew haughty. “We, too, have investigated the balances of your bank accounts, or, to be clearer, of your only savings account. It does not exceed the three digits.”

“Thank you,” said Fabio without losing his composure.

“I see failure in your face. You are but a seducer who pretends to have everything in life and has nothing: an adventurer who, wanting to be everywhere, is a being without a place, a nowhere man.

“As the song says,” Fabio replied. “Without a point of view, the nowhere man never knows where he will go. Isn’t he a bit like you and me?

“You think you’re very clever,” agreed Sir Weyden. “But you make enemies everywhere with such keen remarks, and believe me, those enemies will get united to destroy you. You won’t even realize how it happened.”

“Is there anyone in this universe who can defeat a man who tells the truth?”

“It happens every day,” said Sir Weyden. “Even for those who read the Bible.”

“You are a lucky man, Sir Weyden,” Fabio retorted. “I see your wife quite recovered from the gloomy events of the past few weeks.”

“Your irony or flattery doesn’t concern me,” Sir Weyden snapped. “I will see that Lord Gloucester and his wife change their mind about your presence on Mars. Ralph is already awfully disturbed by your talk this morning.”

“How so?” Fabio asked, looking at the inside of his new Benz Gravimusine.

“I hope not to see you again in many years, Mister Saint-André.”

“I just hope you won’t change your wife in the same way you’ve changed your cars every week.”

Sir Weyden flew away on his gravimotor towards the sky above.

An hour later Fabio and Martha entered Guillermina’s office. Fabio surprised her by sitting at Guillermina’s desk, talking on the phone, next to a cup of coffee that spread a soft aroma. Guillermina, with a phone in her hand, smiled as soon as she saw them, inviting them, with a wave of her hand, to take a seat on chairs nearby.

“When did Doctor Philippe leave the planet?” she said into the phone. “Are you sure you want to find out? Well, Doctor Philippe Was already a very busy man: he worked day and night without taking a rest. If I were in your shoes I’d forget about that damn Neptunian frog.”

Martha shifted uneasily in her chair. Guillermina smiled at her as she stroked the mug on her desk. Fabio noticed the coffee pot still steaming at her side.

“Now, excuse me, Mrs. Grave. I must attend Mister and Mme Saint-André ... Yes, they both visited me without telling me in advance. Foreigners!”

“Oh! Fabio exclaimed. Please! Let’s go!

“Don’t worry about us!” said Martha. “We can wait!”

“I’ll call you later,” Guillermina said. “They are listening to our conversation and we have private things to talk about.”

Guillermina hung up the phone and took a sip of black coffee from her mug.

“But what a pleasant surprise!” Guillermina smiled with complacency. “How can I help you?”

“Have you been to Egypt?” Martha asked.

Guillermina looked uneasily at her for a second. Then, regaining her good humor, she smoothed her hair with a flirtatious expression.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer those questions.”

“Why not?” Martha asked.

“On Mars we appreciate our privacy, my dear.”

“You are misinterpreting our intentions, Mrs. Newton,” Martha explained. “We’d like to rent a nearby cabin.”

Guillermina examined Martha’s clothes with disdain. “They’re not haute couture,” she said, laughing, to herself.

“All of our properties include a garden. They are lease for around nine hundred Martian pounds a month.”

“A reasonable cost,” Martha said.

“What’s your income?” Guillermina asked with a hint of envy. “As I understand you have no properties in the universe.”

“My family owns two gravimotor companies in Neptune,” Martha replied, raising his body from her chair.

“One of them is the manufacturer of the robotaxi in which we move around this town,” said Fabio, getting up and adjusting his coat. “But we can go to another leasing agency.”

“Your parents are more than enough guarantee to us,” Guillermina said, jumping out of her chair and seizing Martha by her shoulder.

“We apologize for the inconvenience, Mrs. Guillermina,” Martha agreed, retaking her seat. “We just wanted to know a little bit about our future landlady’s life.”

“My life?” Guillermina hesitated.

“Think about it and we’ll talk tomorrow,” Fabio sighed impatiently, resting his hands’ palms on his knees.

“Monsieur Saint-André!” Guillermina exclaimed, rubbing her hands together.

“Yes?” Fabio looked askance at her.

“I’m so sorry to be so bitchy,” Guillermina apologized. “How many rooms should your cabin have?”

Hours later, Guillermina, Fabio and Martha descended in the Neptunian gravitaxi on the wide marble terrace of a gently faded Martian mansion under a blanket of grass that extended over to an open garden where a family of wild foxes roamed along with three Peacocks.

“Two bathrooms and a full kitchen,” Guillermina said in a shrilling voice.

The peacocks were frightened and took flight towards the forest. The foxes stood motionless for a few seconds and then sneaked through the bushes.

“We’ll sign a one-year lease tomorrow morning,” Martha sighed, taking out her mobile.

“When are you planning to move?” Guillermina asked, scanning Martha’s face with her mobile.

“By the end of this week,” Martha said, smiling.

“Once again, I owe you an apology for my behavior this morning,” Guillermina said as she saw Martha typing on her mobile.

“It doesn’t matter,” Martha said, projecting on the air a transfer invoice for nine hundred Martian pounds, “we understand you. I wonder whether you are still willing to answer our questions, Mrs. Grave.”

“Well,” Guillermina fixed her eyes on a window just above the terrace, “of course. It’s the least I can do.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“There’s a beautiful park,” Guillermina agreed, her eyes burning, “not far from here.”

“I’m glad to see you so happy,” Martha said.

“In northern Mars we are very proud of our green fields.”

Behind a window on the second floor, a bony, bald, 75-year-old man with an aquiline nose, dressed in a purple cardigan sweater, watched the movements of Fabio, Martha, and Guillermina. His eyes, reflecting the anger of bigotry, followed in the footsteps of the three of them over the carefully trimmed five-acre garden.

“I got divorced when Lord Gloucester decided to send us to Jupiter,” Guillermina said. “That was in 3878. I remember the exact date. The Galactic Football Cup was then being played in Uranus.”

“Did you navigate the Iron River?” Fabio asked.

“With Anaximandra, Cleopatra and former Lady Gloucester,” Guillermina agreed. “She had a wasp waist back then. It was, in general, an unforgettable adventure.”

“Particularly for children,” said Martha. “Do you remember something extraordinary that happened back then?”

“You ask me about events that occurred twenty-two years ago.”

A gravitruck crossed almost flush above the treetops. Guillermina mechanically waved her hand.

“It’s Sir Weyden driving one of her four-ton gravitrucks,” she explained.

“Where does he come from?” Martha asked.

“From ...” Guillermina hesitated, “I don’t know. I do not meddle in the private lives of my neighbors. Maybe from the center. We all know that Sir Weyden is a sporadic pilot from the Universal Materialization System, in the Titanium City teleport station.”

“Being a teleporter is a great privilege,” said Fabio. “How often does he get dematerialized?”

“Two or three times a year,” Guillermina replied. “Mars is well known for its teleportation points, which is very rare on Venus, as I understand it. Every day we get hundreds of ferries full of Venus and Mercury travelers.”

The insistent tinkling of a bell was suddenly heard. Martha pulled her cell phone out of her green leather jacket.

“Very impressive,” Fabio whispered. “I have never teleported more than once a year.”

“On Mars we do it at least five times a year, Monsieur,” Guillermina said with a touch of arrogance.

“Hello?“ Martha asked with a smile. “Severus?”

Martha moved several meters away.

“To be honest,” Guillermina said, “Sir Weyden had somehow biased me against both of you.”

Fabio raised his eyebrows.

“He called me this morning,” Mrs. Grave said with an apologetic air.

“Why do you think we upset her so much?”

“You are both foreign detectives, Sir. Besides, and despite your personal relationship with Inspector Keiichi, you both lack a professional card. Now, I know that you’ve unmasked criminals pretty well. But if you allow me to tell you, I think the police report was quite correct. Poor Cleopatra committed suicide. All their inquiries, therefore, are not only meaningless, but also disturbing, even offensive. I am outraged to think that you are a cause of anguish for the Gloucester family, particularly for Anaximandra.”

“Anaximandra?” Fabio repeated. “Oh, yes! We spoke to her yesterday morning. If you’ll allow me, I should tell you that you and Sir Weyden are wrong about our intentions, Mrs. Newton.”

“You should apply for a more suitable local job. As a proofreader for a translation company. I can put you in contact with some local personalities. Surely, I do not doubt it, they will love your concepts about Mars, Neptune and Saturn.”

Fabio looked at her with a frown.

“How is the Doctor?”

“Excuse me?”

“Doctor Philippe,” Fabio explained himself. “You said something about him just as we entered your office. Wasn’t “bloody frog” your expression?

“Yeah,” said Guillermina, “well, it looks like he’s gone. That’s what my sister, Mrs. Grave, told me.”

“Oh yeah! They both are on very good terms.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Guillermina replied, her face hardening. “What happens is that in this country we maintain a cordial relationship with all people, Monsieur, even if they are foreigners.

“Or our enemies,” Fabio assented. He looked uneasily at Martha, who was still talking on the phone.

“Did you know Doctor Philippe?” Fabio asked. I mean, before coming to Mars.

“Not at all,” Guillermina replied with an offended mien. “But I know he worked for Lord Gloucester at some point.”

“Yes of course. Do you know who his direct superior is?”

“Mister Cancerbero,” Guillermina said, immediately retracting herself, “I think.”

“Your ex-husband?”

Guillermina blinked and expressed her surprise by turning her head towards the door.

“My ex-husband,” she agreed. “I see you are quite well informed, Monsieur. Have you talked to him?”

“Not yet.”

“I think you both will get along,” Guillermina said, licking her lips.

Fabio wondered if that slender old woman wanted to seduce him.

“Do you believe so?”

“May I ask you a question, Monsieur?”

“Of course.”

“May I have you over for a cup of tea in my apartment?”

“I love blond tea,” Fabio replied, understanding his suggestion. “As long as it´is well prepared.”

He saw Martha next to the black gravitaxi floating on the marble terrace. Without blinking, Fabio pulled a brown mobile from his jacket. Just then Martha hung up on her call and hurried over to them.

“What do you think of Sir Weyden?” Fabio asked her.

“The deeper we dig into his past,” Martha said, “the more mysterious I find him.”

“He flaunts his wealth,” Guillermina agreed. “Some people resent it. Now you’ll excuse me.”

Guillermina answered a call on her cell phone and walked away to the Martian mansion. Fabio then projected a holotext from his coltan ring.

“The Gloucester invite us to dinner at their mansion tomorrow night,” said Fabio. “At nine.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to go,” Martha said.

“Oh honey!” Fabio agreed, closing the holotext. “Do you have an appointment with the dentist?”

“Severus entertains strange ideas about us,” Martha replied.

Fabio laughed nervously.

“I hope he enjoys your company,” he said. “Why did you ask Mrs. Newton about Jupiter?”

“Oh! To test her. Cleopatra once told me that something extraordinary happened on that trip.”

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.