Free Eros Ascending: Book 1 of Tales of the Velvet Comet by Mike Resnick

espionage isn't exactly the usual definition of ‘getting out in the field,'” muttered Redwine.
    “Come off it, Harry. I think you even like the danger.”
    Redwine snorted caustically.
    “And I know you like the money,” continued Bonhomme.
    “I've got enough to retire on right now.”
    “You'd die of boredom in two years’ time.”
    “You wouldn't care to bet on that, would you?” snapped Redwine.
    “I already have. Nine different times, to be exact—and I've never lost.”
    “Yeah? Well, don't push your luck. I'm getting pretty fed up with you, and with whoever it is I'm really working for.”
    “But you'll keep working for us, just the same,” said Bonhomme. “We've got a lot of good accountants in the Syndicate, Harry. What makes you the best isn't the way you balance the books—it's the way you fix them. Sabotage is your forte, so why fight against it?”
    “There's a hell of a lot of difference between sabotage and subversion,” said Redwine. “If I'm such a great master spy, why don't you ever send me out to ruin the Bello Conglomerate or the Reeling Corporation? Why am I always undercutting Vainmill?”
    “Because Vainmill's the biggest of them all, and that's the prize we're playing for. You know that, Harry.” He paused. “We're working for a very bright, very ambitious person, you and I. Instead of feeling angry, you ought to be grateful. Look at where we were when we started; then look at how far we've come.”
    “Over the corpses of nine Vainmill subsidiaries,” replied Redwine sullenly.
    “Vainmill will survive,” said Bonhomme patiently.
    “Look, you know the Old Woman is retiring next year. When the person we work for surveyed the situation, there were half a dozen likelier candidates for the job. Now there's only one: Rubikov of Entertainment and Leisure. He fought for the Comet when no one else wanted it, so all we have to do is do a job on the books and we've eliminated the last stepping stone.”
    “ Then will I know who I'm working for?”
    Bonhomme chuckled. “Then the whole fucking Republic will know who you're working for.”
    “I still don't like it.”
    “The artistic temperament,” remarked Bonhomme sardonically.
    “When this job is through, our man is definitely in?”
    “Our person is definitely in,” Bonhomme corrected him carefully.
    “Then why do you think you're going to send me out to do more of this stuff ?”
    “Because our employer recognizes your true value, Harry. You don't belong cooped up in an office.”
    “Yeah? Well; that's my fee for putting our person of indeterminate gender into the catbird's seat:
    I want an office of my own, I want the job I was trained to do, and I never want to hear from you again.”
    “You'll be pounding on my door two months later, begging me to rescue you from a life of boredom.”
    “Don't you be too goddamned sure of that!” snapped Redwine. “Maybe I'm getting a little older and a little more tired than you think. Maybe, just once in my career, I'd like to do something con structive.”
    “Maybe,” agreed Bonhomme. “But I doubt it. Don't forget, Harry—you practically begged me for those first two assignments.”
    “I was hungrier then.”
    “It took us ten months to transfer you to Entertainment and Leisure and place you where we wanted you. How come I never heard a whisper about your moral qualms during all that time?”
    “Because I wasn't working on a ship that had a plant who knew about us!”
    “Don't carry on so, Harry. Even if they can connect us, so what? I've been an officer in four of Vainmill's five divisions. It would be decidedly odd if we hadn't run into each other somewhere along the way.” He checked his chronometer. “You've wasted almost twenty minutes, Harry. Hadn't you better be getting back to work?”
    “If they catch me I'll tell them everything I know about you,” promised Redwine.
    Bonhomme chuckled. “If they catch you, you'll bluff and lie and bluster your way out of