“You call Green. I am calling my lawyer. I don’t trust Laughton not to frame me.”
“Just tell us what in the hell you are doing in the middle of a Justice Department job?” Alistair said.
“Saving Nika Rik Terri’s life. Which is more than you people were prepared to do.”
Alistair couldn’t stop the snarl. “How did you know it was Rik Terri?”
Wickmore calmed suddenly, pulled himself together. It was unnerving to see a man who’d been so apoplectic a moment ago so collected now.
“Agent Laughton, I had information that she would be there. Someone had to save her life. I didn’t trust the Justice Department to do so.”
“If Eaglehawk cleaned up their act, the galaxy might become a more trustworthy place,” Paola said.
Alistair spoke hurriedly, over the top of her: “That doesn’t explain why you were in the store. Or how you got in the store, to be in a position to save her life.” He didn’t want Paola on a defamation suit.
“Agent Laughton. We’ve been over this.”
“One of the intruders was injured. Was it Rik Terri?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“The sooner you help, the sooner you can go.”
“And in the meantime, Rik Terri disappears again.” Wickmore turned to Paola. “Is this how your thugs apprehend criminals?”
“No.” Paola examined the weapon one of the agents had bagged and handed her. “Is this yours?”
“Never seen it before. What is it?”
“Good. Because needlers are illegal, and if it was yours, you would have more than Alistair’s questions to answer.”
Alistair’s link buzzed. Dagar Songyan. Finally. A Justice Department agent stood at her side.
“Dragging me out of bed like this is unacceptable, Agent Laughton.”
If she’d been in bed, then the agent had given her time to dress and make up.
“We appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Songyan. Thank you. I do have a question for you. Did Bertram Snowshoe or Nika Rik Terri try to collect the Songyan?”
“The one you confiscated?” She stopped to think about it. “Why yes, Snowshoe came in earlier today.”
“And you didn’t call me? Even though you knew I was waiting for Snowshoe? Even though the genemod machine had been confiscated? Even though I asked you to?”
Dagar said, “Agent Laughton, we were attacked not long afterward. It slipped my mind.”
There was rap on Paola’s office door. Lawyer Demetriou—even more immaculately suited than Paola—entered. Alistair had met him before, had been threatened with lawsuits every time. None of the lawsuits had eventuated, but he had no doubt Demetriou could have ruined his career if he wanted to. The fact that he hadn’t followed through on his threats was telling. It meant he wasn’t sure Wickmore would win.
“About time,” Wickmore said.
Alistair turned back to Dagar. “Attacked? How convenient.”
Dagar’s voice was frosty. “It was most inconvenient, actually. Someone used a sparker. We have to rewire half the building.”
Alistair caught the slight movement of Wickmore’s lips as he hid a smile.
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t have time to notify me, despite my request, or anyone else in the Justice Department, but you took the time to notify Executive Wickmore?” It was a guess, but how else would Wickmore have known?
“I object to that accusation,” Wickmore’s lawyer said.
It was going to be a long night.
Meantime, Rik Terri was getting farther away.
* * *
• • •
Alistair sent out requests to the various hospitals to report anyone coming in with blaster burns. So far they’d had three, none of whom was their quarry.
It was, according to the nearest hospital, a quiet night for blaster-related incidents.
“I don’t think she’d go to a hospital,” Cam said. “She’s a body modder, Alistair. I think she’ll go to a modding studio.”
“To repair someone who’s been burned by blaster fire?”
“I bet modders never set foot inside hospitals. I wouldn’t have gone to a hospital earlier tonight if you hadn’t forced me. I would have gone to a modder. My modder, if I could.”
Alistair hadn’t told Cam what the doctor had said. But then, Cam knew his body was full of transurides. “You know, Cam, I can’t see why anyone would go to a modder when they need to save someone’s life.”
“You can’t,” Cam said. “I can.” He looked at Alistair. Alistair was the first to look away. “I would go to a modder.”
“Fine. I’ll get agents to check the modders,” Alistair said.
* * *
• • •
Cam was right.
Gregory “Call me Drake” Eames ran a modding shop down on the docks.
“They left half an hour ago.”
Half an hour. So close.
“I didn’t do anything illegal. The woman, she had the qualifications. I checked.”
“We’re sure you did.”
Drake held his hands in the air, surrender-style. “Everything was aboveboard. She just wanted to use the genemod machine. People do, sometimes. Pay for the hire, I mean.”
“What was her name? What did she look like?”
“Nika James. Qualified seven years ago. From Landers.” He paused. Alistair didn’t know for what. “That’s the preeminent modding school, you know.”
Drake seemed to think it was important.
“She didn’t look like a modder. No style. But she knew what she was doing, all right. I had no reason to question her.”
“How much did she pay you?”
“We bargained.” Drake looked coy. “Can I put my arms down now?”
“No one’s arresting you.”
“That means yes,” Cam said.
“Thank you.” Drake folded his blue-gray arms. They were scaled. He looked as if he’d been trying for a reptilian effect. Or maybe it had been an accident. Alistair wondered if he should sympathize at the mod gone wrong.
“They came into the store. Three of them.”
“Three?”
“Yes. Two women. Nika James and I don’t know who the other woman was, but they called the guy Snow.”
Bertram Snowshoe. It had to be.
“Was the other woman a modder?”
“She didn’t use the machine. She just linked in. Bought things, by the sound of it.” Drake scowled. “Drove a hard bargain. Not like Nika James.”
Nika James was a new name, but someone named Nika might adopt the name James. “Find out what you can about Nika James,” he murmured to Cam.
“What sort of information?”
Sometimes he forgot Cam wasn’t, technically, a qualified agent. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it.” He opened a link, pushed the details and the inquiry through.
“Is this going to take long?” Drake asked. “I’ve been up all night and I have a customer coming this morning.” He yawned, showing slightly pointed teeth.
“Can I see your security feed?” Alistair asked.
“My feed.” Drake hesitated, looked as if he was considering what might be on the feed. “What would you be doing with it?” he asked cautiously.
“Watch it.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. She had certification.”
“If you don’t give us the feed, I’ll arrest you for obstructing justice.”
“It’s not a crime to overcharge, you know.”
“All of last night’s feed, and I want it now.
“Where do you think they went after they left your shop?” he asked while Drake reluctantly downloaded the feed.
“I want you to know that I had nothing to do with the idea to steal the Songyan.”
&nbs
p; Every second they delayed, Rik Terri was getting farther away.
“I only knew about it after they tried it.” He pushed the feed through. “It’s all there. You’ll see I didn’t.”
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t I check this quickly?” Cam suggested. “You keep talking.”
Cam had a bionic implant in his eye. He could check it without needing a screen. And it meant they weren’t wasting time. “Good idea.” Alistair turned back to the modder. “Where do you think they went after they left you?”
Drake scratched his head, a sound that set Alistair’s teeth on edge. Did he have scales on his head too? “They stopped talking at the end. She paced. The other one linked in. Then the third one came out of the genemod machine. Nice mod, by the way. He had this lovely red-gold hair. Suited him much better than being a woman. Except he was so much older.”
So Brand and Bouwmeester had been Rik Terri and Snowshoe, if Wickmore was correct about Rik Terri. “The two who were modded—that was the one called Nika and the one called Snow?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You didn’t say where they were going.”
“I don’t rightly know. They didn’t exactly say, if you know what I mean.”
But he knew.
“I can still arrest you for obstructing the Justice Department.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“I get that. You were an innocent bystander. Where were they going?”
“They might have been going to find a Songyan.” He looked at them. “That’s a genemod machine. The best, most expensive. The rarest.”
“I know what they are.”
“Well, the one they were trying to steal got burned. They mentioned all the big-name studios.” He thought about it. “Except Rik Terri. But then, her studio was bombed, so that’s probably why.”
“Probably.” It was getting harder to keep his voice neutral. Coming so close to Nika Rik Terri had stressed him more than he realized. That, or two years away from interviewing had shortened his patience.
“Got it.” Cam looked up, right eye glowing. “We need to move, Alistair, if we want to catch them.”
Alistair called for two more agents to interview Drake. They left at a run. If Cam said hurry, they had to hurry.
“They’re going back to the Songyan factory,” Cam said. “They’re half an hour in front of us.”
“There’s nothing for them there.”
As soon as they were in the aircar, Cam brought up the security feed at the point where one of the women—Rik Terri, if Wickmore was right—said, “The only machine they have on the premises is a museum piece.”
“Why does it have to be a Songyan? They have their pick of any machine they want, but they want this particular brand. Why?”
“It is a famous brand. All the best modders have them.”
Maybe it was an image thing, but Rik Terri had claimed she was desperate. So had the woman with her. Why did they need a Songyan so desperately? And if Alistair could help get her one, would that help his chances of getting her to come to Zell?
“Why didn’t they just come and talk to us?”
“They might have,” Cam said. “We were otherwise occupied, remember.”
And Leonard Wickmore had been surprised to see him alive.
Alistair called Paola. “I want to know all Wickmore’s calls for the last twenty-four hours.”
She pursed her lips. “Going after an executive. Give me a good reason, Alistair, or I can’t.”
“He was waiting for Rik Terri last night, and something he said made me think he had something to do with tonight’s bombing.”
“You’d better be right, Alistair, or I’ll hang for this.”
Was he prepared to risk Paola’s job for this? Harassing an executive could bring her down. Especially if Wickmore was clever enough to cover his tracks. Alistair might be wrong, not that he thought he was. “Leave it to me. I’ll check it.”
But first he had to get Nika Rik Terri.
18
JOSUNE ARRIOLA
The lock on the Songyan Engineering front door was a Verter. Verters took seven minutes to hack with a dedicated lockpick system, let alone in the dark, when you were aware this was only the first stage in your plan. Josune didn’t try.
She shorted the power to the door. “Five minutes starting now.” She pulled out the laser and cut the mechanical lock that had automatically triggered when the electronic one went down. At least they had a mechanical lock. She’d worked in some places where they relied solely on the electronics.
Thank goodness the walls weren’t reinforced. But then, this was a manufacturing plant. Why would they be?
“We’ll have to pay for damages when we return the machine.”
Nika cut off a giggle. “There’ll be more to pay. The glass case.” She sounded breathless. No matter what she said, stealing didn’t sit well with her.
Josune was a bit breathless herself. Five minutes and counting. “We’re in.” She pushed the door open and stepped into the dark building.
Snow pushed the trolley in behind them. “They fixed the power, anyway. That was fast.”
They paused inside. No sound, but a sliver of light under a door down the passage.
She started to cut the glass around the Giwari.
“Josune.”
Nika pointed to the lifts, where a floor light had started to move. The lift was coming down.
Josune handed Nika the laser. “I’ll deal with it. Get the Giwari.”
She was glad she’d brought a stunner as well as a blaster. She ghosted over to the lift.
The smell of hot glass wafted behind her.
The lift pinged.
The door opened.
Dagar Songyan—for it was her in the lift—was linked in. She’d pushed the call onto the screen on the walls of the lift. Leonard Wickmore.
“Laughton threatened me.”
Josune raised the stunner, sprayed the lift. Dagar thumped to the floor. Behind her, the glass of the Giwari’s display case crashed to the floor.
On the screen Leonard Wickmore’s face stared back at her. He smiled.
Josune left Dagar where she was, pressed a random floor—because Wickmore was still on the screen—then stepped away from the lift. “Wickmore knows we’re here. I’ll get the aircar. Be ready when I get back.”
19
ALISTAIR LAUGHTON
Alistair brought the aircar down right to the door of the Songyan Engineering building.
“They’re already here,” Cam said.
The door was open. Two people—one of whom looked a lot like Agent Katrin Brand and must have been Rik Terri, the other a redhead who matched the original image they had of Bertram Snowshoe—were pushing a machine onto an antigrav trolley.
Alistair ran for the door, Cam close behind.
“That was quick,” Rik Terri said, then her eyes widened as she realized he wasn’t who she expected. Her gaze flicked to Cam, widened further. “Cam Santiago, what are you doing here?”
Santiago. No surprises there.
Rik Terri’s hand edged toward the blaster at her side.
Alistair grabbed for her arm. “Wait.”
She flinched. He stopped. He’d seen that kind of flinch before—on an executive’s daughter whose father used to hit her. It was the flinch of someone who expected to be beaten.
Instead he pressed his stunner to her chest. He didn’t want to kill her accidentally, and he wanted to stay alive long enough to talk to her. “I need to talk to you. Will you hear me out?”
She tilted her chin, stared at him. “I don’t have much choice, do I.”
They both froze at the sound of another aircar. It landed on top of the Justice Department car. The night was filled with the cru
nch of metal.
Nika smiled. “Out of time.”
“Cam?”
“Got it.” Cam opened the door.
“He’s got a weapon,” Snowshoe called. “He’s holding it on—”
“Isn’t that nice.” A male voice, and from the shock on Snowshoe’s face, not the voice he was expecting. Cam backed into the room, hands held high.
“All conveniently packaged.” The speaker stepped forward, a blaster in his hand. “We’ll take over now.”
Six men, all holding blasters, all in the camouflage uniform of mercenaries, stepped up with him, three on either side. The speaker wore captain’s epaulettes.
“Back off,” Alistair ordered. “You’re interfering in a Justice Department operation.”
The captain laughed mockingly. “There are more of us than there are of you.”
“I don’t know who you are,” Alistair said. “I don’t know what you are doing here. But leave. Now.” He could see heat images of at least another ten mercenaries around the aircar, all of them in a battle-ready stance, arms in a weapon-ready pose.
“Big words,” the captain said. “For the record, I don’t believe you are from the Justice Department. We’ve all fallen for that one before, haven’t we?” He laughed merrily. “I wonder where you got the idea. Do I let Wickmore know his tip-off was correct, or don’t I? Hmm? Thinking, thinking.”
Another aircar came down to land, hovered, then lifted off again. The captain listened until he was sure it had gone.
“Move your men away,” Alistair ordered. “This is the only warning you get.”
Rik Terri started to ease her own weapon out of her holster.
“Agent Brand? Last I heard you were under arrest.” The captain looked closer. “Or is it Brand?”
“Of course I’m Brand.” Truculent, with a lot more swagger.
“Somehow I doubt that. Mez Arriola, perchance. I’ve been looking for you.” He gestured with his weapon. “Keep your hands away from your body. Above your head would be nice. You, too, Snowshoe.”
“Arriola?” It couldn’t possibly be.
The woman looked at Alistair briefly, eyes curious, then turned back to the captain. “You’re making a mistake, Norris. Let the Justice Department people go.” She put her hands above her head.
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