Free The Mind Pool by Charles Sheffield

Needler lab.
    He had no time to pursue that thought. A blare of trumpets came from the direction opposite to the vanished Bester. The crowd was parting, pushed aside by a dozen hulking ruffians. Behind them came a flower-bedecked sedan chair carried by eight men, with Princess Tatiana walking at its side.
    The Duke of Bosny, Viscount Roosevelt, Count Mellon, Baron Rockwell, Earl of Potomac—all five hundred and seventy pounds of him—was arriving to begin negotiation.
    Twelve hours later, Tatty and Mondrian were at last alone. She was sitting by his side, reviewing a handwritten document.
    “It looks all right, Essy,” she said, frowning in the dim light. “This transfers title, effective two hours ago. They’re all yours now.”
    Mondrian nodded. He did not look up. In front of him on the table was an open flagon of ancient brandy. He was staring into the depths of a balloon glass holding half an inch of amber liquid.
    “You have no idea how much effort it took to find that for you,” complained Tatty. “I started looking for it right after your last visit to Earth—and you haven’t even smelled it.”
    Mondrian roused himself, brought the glass close to his nose, and gave it a dutiful sniff. “I’m sorry. You know me, Princess, most of the time I’d kill for a brandy like this.”
    “So what’s wrong? Bozzie signed over the contracts, you’ve got your two candidates, and Captain Flammarion ought to have them away from Earth in a few more hours. Why aren’t you smiling?”
    “I wish I knew. I can’t help feeling something’s wrong with the deal.”
    “You think you paid too much?”
    “No. Too little. Your friend Bozzie didn’t ask enough money for those two.”
    “But you told me you had no idea how much it ought to cost to buy those contracts.”
    “I didn’t. But King Bester knew, and I was watching his face when Bozzie accepted our first offer. Bester gawped and gasped.” Mondrian picked up the glass, breathed in the delicate centuries-old bouquet, and took a tiny sip. “Well, we’re committed now, even if I don’t feel comfortable with it. I told Flammarion to get them into the Link system and up as soon as he could, before Quarantine had a chance to change their mind. Now I wish I’d taken a look at them myself.”
    “You did see them—you picked them out.”
    “I mean a close look. I only saw them for a second or two, when we first met them. Luther Brachis took care of the exit permits—and he seems much too pleased with himself. I’m telling you, Tatty, something’s not right.”
    “Did you talk to Commander Brachis about it?”
    “I couldn’t. He slipped away with King Bester.”
    “Where to?”
    “They didn’t say. But I think I know. Bester took him to a Needler lab.”
    “Are you sure? I can’t think what either of them would want with one of those.”
    Mondrian shook his head and took another taste of brandy. “Nor can I.” He finally smiled, but it was no more than a rueful grimace. “Princess, if anyone knows that people sneak down here to Earth for their own secret reasons, you and I do. Can you make an arrangement for me to see Rattafee again—tonight?”
    “Rattafee! Didn’t you hear?” Tatty put her hand on his arm. “Essy, Rattafee’s dead. A month ago. I assumed you would have heard about it. She overdosed on Paradox.”
    Mondrian closed his eyes. “That is not . . . good news. She was the best Fropper I ever had. I even thought I might be making some progress with her. Now . . . I don’t know where to turn. Where else can I go?”
    “For another Fropper?”
    “I’ve tried them all. And got nowhere.”
    “I heard about a new one last week, somewhere down in the deep basement levels. I can find out more about that if you want me to—maybe even get an appointment for you.”
    “When?”
    “In a week or so? You know it takes time if the Fropper’s any good.” Tatty hesitated. “I’ll check it out for you tomorrow if you