Blood Harvest by James Axler Page A

indeed!”
    The baron removed a pair of thick, blunt cigars from a humidor on his desk and handed one to Doc. Nero approached with a candelabra and the baron and Doc both leaned across the desk to light their cigars. Nero refilled Doc’s glass. Doc and Barat spent long moments silently smoking and sipping fortified wine. The baron smiled. “You approve?”
    Doc leaned back with a sigh and blew heavy bluesmoke toward the still ceiling fan. “People in my time always touted Cuban tobacco, but I always felt it was too powerful. I preferred Jamaican shag, much as I preferred Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.”
    The baron’s black eyes starred at Doc unblinkingly.
    Doc blinked. The wine, the tobacco and the antiquity of the surroundings were flooding him with memories and feelings he could barely suppress. Despite Barat’s civility, this was an interrogation. They were playing chess, and Doc realized he had made some very bad moves. Doc tried to maintain his poker face. He waved the cigar casually. “Tell me, Baron, from where did you procure it?”
    The baron smiled to reveal his too-long teeth but his black eyes were hard. “Fogo.”
    â€œFogo Island?” Doc sat up straighter. “The Cape Verde Islands survived, then?”
    â€œSome of them.” The baron stared very long at Doc before answering. “The voyage is somewhat long and perilous, but we do occasional trade with them.”
    Doc drew himself up in his chair. “Let me speak plainly, Baron. Clearly, I am—”
    The baron cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. “Let us not bandy words, Doctor. Clearly you and your sec man are not the shipwrecked sailors you pretend.”
    Doc finished his Madeira and sighed. “I fear you have discovered our ruse.”
    â€œSo then, you admit you came through the matter-transfer device on the escarpment.”
    â€œIndeed I do.” He gestured at the decanter. “May I?”
    The baron gestured at the cut crystal generously. “Please.”
    Doc refilled his glass.
    Barat’s black eyes went predatory. “Clearly, you are no baron. You are a fascinating conversationalist, I will admit, but you do not carry the weight of authority nor command across your shoulders like your sec man does. Indeed I believe he is the true leader here. You are a historian of some kind, using your knowledge to fool your way from ville to ville, from jump to jump, hoping to get a meal and perhaps supplies before moving on.”
    Doc sighed inwardly. He was living history rather than a historian, but the baron was close to the mark on their intentions. Ryan had told him to be a baron until told otherwise, but Doc knew all too well he was a terrible liar and Barat was seeing through him all too well. “I am a doctor of natural sciences and philosophy.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œI am prepared to render you all services I am capable of in return for the safety of my friend,” Doc offered.
    â€œI believe I am in a position to make you to do whatever I wish, regardless of the final disposition of your companion.”
    â€œHmm.” Things were going from bad to worse. Doc stalled for time. “I gather you realize the mat-trans device has been set to transfer only two people at a time and is set upon a timer. I have never encountered such a preset and have jumped many times. Would you be so kind as to tell me what the timing and the purpose of the cycle is?”
    Baron Barat ignored the question. “I pray you, Dr. Tanner, tell me, how many more are there in your party?”
    Doc ignored the question in turn and glanced around. “You have quite an impressive library, Baron. May I?”
    â€œPlease.” The baron gestured about the room. “Avail yourself. We have time.”
    So, Doc thought, he feels no haste about the timer. Doc walked among the bookshelves with Nero as his hulking, somber shadow. Doc found many volumes he