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about gods.
It was this tragedy, seen through his mother's fantasies, that made Dzule
forgive any of her offenses against morality. His earliest and strongest
image of women told him that they could not withstand life's crueler torments
except by seeking the pleasures of the bed. That was just the way they were
and one had to accept it. Others might deny this, but obviously they were
hiding identical behavior in their own women.
The Agency had been a natural place for Dzule Peruge to find himself. Here,
the strong sought their place in life. Here, those who took the blinders from
their eyes naturally gravitated. And most important, it was a last outpost of
swashbuckling. In the Agency, no dream was too remote, provided that you
recognized most humans as essentially frail -- especially women.
The bitch of the board was no exception. There was a weakness in her; had to
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be. She was clever, though, with her own brand of driving ruthlessness.
Peruge stared out of the taxi's window at the rain-washed streets, reviewing
the encounter in the board room. She had opened the attack by bringing out
her own copy of the Hellstrom file. She had found the entries she wanted,
referred to them, and said, "You tell us Hellstrom's company is private,
incorporated in 1958; one chief stockholder, himself, and three officers --
Hellstrom, a
Miss Fancy Kalotermi, and a Miss Mimeca Tichenum." She'd put down the file
and stared down the long table at him. "The disturbing thing to many of us is
that, although two women signed their names to these incorporation documents
in front of witnesses, duly notarized, you show no other record of them."
Peruge's response, he thought, had suited the attack. He shrugged and said,
"That's correct. We don't know where they came from, where educated, nothing.
They both sound foreign, but the notary in Fosterville was satisfied with
their identities, and the attorney saw no objection to their being officers in
a corporation doing business in this country. Mimeca could be an oriental
name, as some of you have indicated, and the other one does sound Greek; we
just do not know. This is not a page we intend to keep in its present blank
state. We are exploring this avenue."
"Do they live at Hellstrom's farm?" she asked.
"Apparently."
"Any description of them?"
"Vague: dark hair, possessed of general female characteristics."
"General female characteristics," she mused. "I wonder how you'd describe me.
Well, no matter.
What is their relationship to Hellstrom?"
Peruge had taken his time with the response. He knew how he appeared to
women. He was tall, six feet four inches, and imposing, 221 pounds. His
sandy hair held a distinct touch of red which his eyebrows carried to a darker
tone. His eyes were that dark brown often mistaken for black,
deeply socketed above a rather abbreviated nose, wide mouth, and square chin.
The whole effect was dominantly masculine. He sent this machismo message down
the table with a sudden grin.
"Madame, I would not describe you to anyone, not even to myself. Such is my
responsibility to the
Agency that you remain nameless and faceless. As to these other women,
Hellstrom trusted them sufficiently to want them as officers of his
corporation, which makes us extremely curious about them. We intend to
satisfy that curiosity. You'll note the documents list the Kalotermi woman as
vice-president and the other one as secretary-treasurer, yet each has but a
one percent interest in the corporation."
"How old are they?" she asked, glowering at him.
"Adult."
"Do they travel with Hellstrom?"
"We have no record of that."
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"And you don't even know whether these women have husbands or male attachments
of any other nature?" she pressed.
Peruge's heavy brows tended to draw down in thought or anger, and he brought
them into this position, holding his voice flat and level to betray no upset
at his present ignorance. "We don't know this; no."
She suspected his distress, though, because she moved to the same attack on
Hellstrom. "And
Hellstrom, is he married or otherwise entangled?"
"Not that we know. The reports tell you all that we have at this time."
"All?" she sneered. "How old is Hellstrom?"
"We're guessing at thirty-four. That's farm and ranching country and he was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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