by Dan Moren
“No,” said Nat and Tapper simultaneously, then exchanged a surprised look.
“Uh, had a bad experience,” said Tapper, staring pointedly at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” said Nat slowly, eyeing the sergeant. “Me too.”
Kovalic drummed his fingers on the table. “This doesn’t leave us with a lot of options. The timetable’s pretty tight; we don’t have time to develop another asset.” Much as he preferred the surgeon’s scalpel to the sledgehammer, this was starting to look like some drywall that needed to come down.
“I might be able to help.”
It was as if everybody had drawn a breath at the same moment. Sayers had spoken, but she was still staring down at her food, her entire body language conveying nothing but an intense desire to be left alone.
Kovalic suppressed a sigh of relief. The direct approach with Sayers seemed to be hit or miss – he’d been hoping she’d offer something of her own volition instead of him having to pry it out of her. Her background, checkered as it was, was one of the main reasons he’d recruited her for this job in the first place.
He nodded in her direction. “Go ahead.”
Looking up from her bowl, she focused on him, ignoring the rest of the team. “There’s an old friend of mine – well, friend might be putting it strongly. We used to run together when we were kids in Salaam. She’s kind of plugged into this whole scene. If anybody knows who stole this artifact, it’s her. And, last I heard, she was on Jericho.”
Kovalic nodded to Nat. Last mission or not, she was still the team’s XO.
She glared daggers at him in return, but summoned her equanimity. “Thank you, specialist. That sounds promising. Give me her name and I… we can check up on her. If the boys wouldn’t mind cleaning up dinner,” she said, turning a too-sweet smile towards Kovalic.
“Cooking and cleaning?” he said. “Hardly fair.”
Tapper rolled his eyes. “I think I know a thinly veiled order when I hear one. Come on, kid.” He nudged Brody, rose from his seat, and started collecting plates.
Reluctantly, Sayers followed Nat over to the relay terminal. Kovalic imagined that Tseng-Tao’s Divide probably didn’t have the most up-to-date databases around, but hopefully they were at least fairly recent. He leaned back and took a rare moment of having absolutely nothing to do.
As Brody and Tapper loaded the dishes into the washing unit, Kovalic put his feet up and checked the newsfeeds on his sleeve.
Things really had been quiet since their mission to Bayern three months ago. The Crown Prince Hadrian had taken a step back from his belligerent posturing, withdrawing from the spotlight almost entirely. His brother Matthias – widely regarded as competent, if unambitious – had apparently taken over much of the day-to-day politicking as his father’s representative, while their sister Isabella had only redoubled her programs providing aid to the less fortunate communities on Illyrican worlds.
Meanwhile, the emperor’s ill health was still a matter of rumors and whispers. Nothing new there – even Erich von Denffer, the former leader of Hadrian’s honor guard, whom the Commonwealth had debriefed extensively after his role in the Bayern incident, couldn’t shed much light on Alaric’s current condition. All in all, business as usual.
Kovalic flipped over to his messages, skimming through the latest dump from the relay on Tseng-Tao’s Divide. Nothing of import in his main inbox, so he tapped in the code to access his secure dead drop, trying to ignore the anticipatory tightness in his chest. He checked the headers for a specific code string, but there was nothing. Still. Swiping it off his sleeve, he took a deep breath.
“Ah ha,” said Nat, sitting back from the terminal with a satisfied air. “Got her. Henrietta Schenk. Looks like she’s still on Jericho.”
Sayers, leaning over Nat’s shoulder, shook her head. “Hard to believe. Never really saw her as a stationsider.”
“Jericho’s hardly a station,” snorted Tapper. “Especially with all that jiggery-pokery they do to make you believe you’re actually on a planet. Fake skies, sunrise and sunset, even weather. On a space station!” He shook his head and grumbled something about not putting up with those kinds of shenanigans when he was younger.
Kovalic joined them at the terminal. “She’s on our watchlist?”
“Our good friends at the Commonwealth Intelligence Directorate have apparently been keeping tabs on her as a known associate of… well, about three-quarters of the criminal elements on the station, apparently.”
“Useful person to know,” said Kovalic, raising his eyebrows at Sayers.
“Schenk always did have a way of making friends wherever she went,” said Sayers, arms crossed. “Or, at the least, she always knew the right friends to make.”
Kovalic glanced at Nat. “What do you think?”
“It’s the best lead we’ve got.”
“It’s the only lead we’ve got.”
“Can’t argue with that. All right, specialist, you got yourself a show. Make contact with your friend Schenk, but keep your cards close. Let’s see what she knows.”
Something flitted through the woman’s eyes, some look of regret and maybe even a tinge of nervousness, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.” And then she was up and gone, practically leaving a dust cloud in her wake.
“You sure about this?” murmured Nat. “Can we trust her, after what happened back there?”
“If this is going to work, we’re going to have to start to sooner or later.” And, he didn’t add, if it didn’t work, they were hardly any worse off than they’d been before. “Here’s hoping I’m a hell of a judge of people.”
CHAPTER 7
The last time Addy had been on a space station was during infantry training. Since the artificial gravity generators could simulate different g-forces, stations were ideal for prepping soldiers for environments with lower or heavier gravity. That base had been spartan and very military, all uniform gray corridors and harsh fluorescent lighting, bereft of decoration or any personality.
It had been nothing like this.
Jericho Station, a massive floating cylinder that was home to fifteen thousand people and a roughly equivalent transient population, was not only the biggest self-sufficient human-built habitat, but also occupied the single most strategically important location in the known galaxy.
The Jericho system – or the bottleneck, as it had been dubbed – had no habitable planets of its own, but it was the only bridge between the dominion of the Illyrican Empire and the independent systems of the Commonwealth. Its administration maintained a staunch neutrality in the conflict between the two superpowers, making it fertile ground for commerce, espionage, and even tourism.
A gondola drifted by on its repulsor field, propelled by an oarsman in a striped shirt and straw hat. The hat made Addy snort: despite the golden colors of the late afternoon overhead, the artificial sunlight in here would give you less of a tan than the background radiation.
Out of curiosity, Addy knelt on the stone pavement – plasticrete made to look like stone, her brain concluded as she touched the pitted but warm surface – and dipped her fingers in the water of the canal.
The surface shimmered as she touched it, dissipating without a ripple. A hologram, naturally. Nobody was going to be piping valuable water through a space station for decoration.
She shook her head and stood, brushing her hands on her pants out of muscle memory.
“You’re not here to sightsee, Trapshot,” said Commander Taylor in her ear. Addy’s jaw muscles tightened. God forbid she take five seconds out of this precious mission. “Any sign of your contact?”
Addy scanned the piazza again. It was all fake, from the red tiled roofs to the cobblestones on the ground. So much money spent aping a place light years away that most of the people here had probably never seen. Bizarre and self-indulgent, to her mind. Give her the honesty of that military station any day of the week.
“Negative, Sparrowhawk.” At least the rest of them had codenames just as
ridiculous as the one she’d been handed.
People sat at metal tables around the square, drinking coffee out of tiny cups and eating overpriced – and not terribly good – pasta and red sauce.
Tourist digs, tourist food. Some things were universal. At least the gelato didn’t look half bad.
Addy set out on another perimeter walk, strolling like she was merely taking in the sights, but keeping her eyes on the plaza’s half dozen entrances. The message she’d sent Schenk had said to meet at half past noon; the woman was late. Not that Schenk had ever been the most punctual. But Addy hadn’t even gotten a reply, so there was the chance that Schenk hadn’t received the message. Or simply wasn’t coming. Maybe Addy had misjudged whatever connection she had thought they’d had, or maybe, just maybe, Schenk didn’t give a shit about her.
Her lips tightened. Just another failure for Taylor to lay on her shoulders. This didn’t pan out, the team would be scrambling for another lead. And Addy would be out on her ass again.
Pressure constricted her chest, and she saw the colors in her vision go too sharp, clashing wildly. She fought down the rising tide of panic that pounded in her ears.
Had it not been for that, she was sure she would have heard the footsteps behind her, caught movement out of her peripheral vision, maybe even picked up the distinctive scent of sweat mixed with grease. But the panic washed away everything, so that when the voice came, her heart pole-vaulted into her throat.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you ever again – much less see you in the flesh.”
Only the barest vestige of self-control kept Addy from whirling and planting a fist in the woman’s stomach. She imagined herself in a cold shower, rivulets icing their way down her body, dripping from her hair, quenching the hot wave of anxiety. It didn’t entirely eliminate the panic, but she regained enough poise to turn and face the woman with at least a veneer of calm.
“Schenk.”
Henrietta Schenk was a beefy woman, arms as thick as oxygen canisters and a large muscular torso to match. Doughy cheeks flanked a nose that had been broken one too many times beneath iridescent blue eyes. A pink mohawk bristled from her pasty scalp, and her navy blue jumpsuit was zipped open to the waist, revealing a grimy once-white tank top.
“What are you doing here, Addy?” Nothing about Schenk’s expression was warm. “Think we said everything needed saying way back when.”
All that and more. Addy’s heartbeat had ratcheted back down to a merely fast pace, no longer thumping against her chest. “This isn’t about the past, Schenk. New business.”
One eyebrow, pink to match the mohawk, went up. “Business? Last I heard, you were out of the life.”
Addy had been vague with Schenk, but if her old partner wanted to think she was still running cons and thieving, well, that was just fine by Addy. “Looks like the life wasn’t done with me.”
“Funny. You never had much of a taste for it. I seem to recall you calling me a shit-eating bottom-feeder. Which was both insulting and redundant.”
“Mistakes were made.”
That earned a snort from Schenk. “Aren’t they always.”
“Look, I know you’re pissed at me. Fine. But this is for real. You want to talk business or you want to rehash ancient history?”
“Oh, I can do both, honey.”
Addy’s fingers curled into fists but she kept them at her side, all too conscious that Taylor and the team were listening in. “Fine. Maybe we can go somewhere a little more private?”
Schenk looked around and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, only the tourists spend any time in Venezia. Anyway, I’ve got a little time before my shift starts. We can go somewhere with fewer eyes. Come on.”
“Not too far,” said Taylor’s voice in her ear. “Don’t blow your backup.”
Addy’s instincts told her that Schenk wouldn’t looking for a tail, but the specialist realized she was still a little spun up from earlier. Heeding Taylor’s advice was probably a good idea, much as it rankled.
Schenk led her down one of the passages, away from the piazza. They passed a few vacant storefronts, dusty glass framing what used to be a pastry shop and a restaurant.
The architecture grew more practical as they went, shifting into modern plastiglass and steel, but still the fake sky lingered overhead, complete with the occasional sounds of chirping birds. A cool wind ruffled Addy’s short hair and for a split second she wondered if it was going to rain.
“Gets you, don’t it?” said Schenk. “Even after five years, I sometimes forget we’re hanging in the middle of empty space.”
“What planet isn’t?”
“Fair point.”
Addy followed Schenk around a bend and up to what looked like a white wood trellis, ivy spidering outwards towards neighboring wall panels. Glancing around, Schenk reached down and triggered a catch; the panel swung open, revealing a dark space beyond.
Warning bells rang and Addy tensed. None too subtly either, as she caught an amused look on the other woman’s face.
“Relax. Just looking for someplace quiet.”
It wasn’t the most reassuring explanation. Hope the team’s getting this.
“What is this, some sort of secret hideout? A door hidden behind a bunch of plants? A little cliché, even for you, Schenk.”
Schenk gave her a sour look. “You want to talk? Step into my office.”
Addy considered her options: take a risk on an old friend or turn around and admit that she’d failed.
No choice at all.
The panel swung closed behind them, plunging the room beyond into total darkness. But at a click, it flooded with blue fluorescent light.
The space was small: a junction of maintenance crawlways, with a spaghetti-jumble of conduits and piping. Some radiated heat, others were rimed with frost. Above a ventilation fan whirred, sending downdrafts across Addy’s scalp.
Her earbud hiccuped and hissed, and she reached up to tap it under the guise of scratching her ear. No dice. Interference from the conduits must be jamming the signal.
The mohawked woman leaned against a wall and crossed her arms. “So, let’s make this fast. My break’s only twenty minutes.”
Guess the foreplay’s over. Schenk had always valued straightforwardness.
“You heard about the auction on Tseng-Tao’s Divide a couple days ago?”
Schenk’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”
“Oh come on, Schenk, don’t be coy. A brazen robbery in broad daylight? The theft of a priceless artifact? If you haven’t, you’re losing your touch.”
“Yeah, OK, I heard about it. What’s it to you?”
“I need to know who was behind it.”
Schenk stared at her as if she’d asked for the deed to a small moon, then threw back her head and laughed. The sound reverberated off the metal walls, bouncing all the way up to the fan and then back down, a hideous distortion of itself.
“Sure. Somebody with that kind of muscle and reach, you just want me to point you in their direction? You haven’t changed, honey. Always did like punching above your weight.”
Addy’s teeth ground against each other. I’ll show you punching. “I know the delivery was set for Jericho. All I need is a name. And I can make it worth your while.” Taylor had told her they had a line of operational credit, up to a number with more zeroes than Addy had ever seen in her life. She was pretty sure that whatever Schenk asked for, they could pay.
“Sorry, honey, but you don’t have enough money for this.” For the first time Addy saw something else beyond the self-assuredness in her old friend’s eyes. Something that she couldn’t recall ever having seen there before.
Fear.
“Look,” said Schenk, “you want my advice–”
“I don’t.”
“–you walk away from this. Before you get hurt.”
“Is that a threat?”
Schenk shook her head. “No, it’s a warning. For old time’s sake. The Aleph Tablet might be a hoax, but it’s a hoax
people are willing to kill over. This whole thing is bad news.”
“No can do.”
“Well,” said Schenk, “I’m really sorry to hear that.” Her hands fell to her sides.
Addy’s alertness had been on a low simmer, but the second Schenk’s hands moved, everything spiked, her own hands coming to the ready, hips setting, body dropping into a stance with a lower center of gravity.
Then she hesitated.
She’d been wrong back at the auction, and she’d paid for it. The nagging doubt tugged at her brain: what if she was wrong again? What if she blew another lead?
Schenk hit a valve and steam hissed out of one of the pipes overhead towards Addy’s face. She had just enough time to feel the heat blossoming on her skin before she ducked down and out of the way, throwing up her arm to take the brunt of the gas.
There was a barrage of clanks and bangs and by the time Addy got her eyes open, she saw the soles of Schenk’s boots disappearing into one of the crawlways.
Shit. Addy dropped to her knees, but one of Schenk’s feet lashed out and hit a lever, dropping an emergency pressure hatch that nearly took off Addy’s fingers as it slammed shut.
Double shit. Her fingers scrabbled across the hatch, but if there were a release it was on the other side. Maintenance was Schenk’s specialty; Addy had seen her rig everything from hydraulic lifts to electrical conduits. This little office made a lot more sense when you considered that it had given Schenk plenty of escape routes. Damn it, she should have thought about that before.
Spinning around, she found the trellis panel they’d entered through and barged through it, almost bowling over the man peering closely at the ivy-covered walls. Addy caught a flash of light brown hair out of the corner of her eye, but she was already looking down the passageway towards the main drag, trying to rotate a three-dimensional model of the space station in her head, suss out which direction Schenk had gone – she could be anywhere by now.
A hand touched Addy’s shoulder and she whirled, drawing back for a strike.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Eli Brody, hands raised. “What happened?”
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Addy knotted her fingers in her hair. Calm. She forced herself to breathe. This was still salvageable. Somehow. “I need a station schematic.”