Odd Girl Out

by Timothy Zahn

  “It’s the same format we always use,” Aksam protested, still studying it.

  “Which probably means it’s never been seen by someone actually familiar with Confederation law,” McMicking said. “Perhaps I should drop by the courthouse before I leave New Tigris and have a look at all your other document formats.”

  Aksam’s cheeks tightened. He’d probably seen enough dit rec courtroom dramas to know that invalid documents could be grounds for appeal.

  I had no idea whether that was actually true. But in my case, it didn’t matter. McMicking’s goal was clearly to buy us some time, and he’d already accomplished that.

  “But thank you for dropping by,” I spoke up. “Now that I know about Mr. Karim’s record, I’ll be sure to steer clear of him. Do you happen to have a list of other local criminals handy, in case I need to ask anyone for directions again?”

  Aksam gave me a look that could kill mildew. But he still had one card left to play. “We’ll be seeing you later, Mr. Donaldson,” he promised menacingly. “In the meantime, I need to ask you to surrender your weapon.”

  “I have a valid carry permit,” I reminded him.

  “You had a valid carry permit,” he countered. “As local representative of Hardin Industries, Mr. Veldrick has just revoked it.”

  I frowned. “That’s absurd. Mr. Veldrick isn’t connected to Hardin Industries.”

  “He’s the local head of Crown Rosette, which is now a subsidiary of Hardin Industries,” Aksam said. “That makes him the local Hardin representative.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “And certainly not for this. Even actual, official Hardin managers have no authority over security personnel.”

  “You’re welcome to come down to the courthouse and argue your case,” Aksam said. He had his hand resting on his own holstered sidearm now “But until a judge rules on the question, public safety overrides all such concerns. You will surrender your weapon.”

  I looked at McMicking. He had a sour look on his face, but he gave me a small nod. “Fine,” I said, pulling out my Glock and handing it over. “But I’m holding you personally responsible for the safety of this weapon.”

  “Don’t worry,” Aksam said, taking the Glock and handing it to Lasari, who tucked it into the back of his belt. “I understand you’re staying at the Hanging Gardens?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Feel free to drop by when you have a proper warrant for a proper crime.” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m sorry. If you ever have a proper warrant for a proper crime.”

  A good dit rec detective would have had a sarcastic riposte ready. But Aksam must have missed that day at cop school. Sending a last glower at McMicking, he turned and stalked out, his partner trailing silently behind him.

  “So much for Veldrick’s next move,” I commented, taking a sip of my iced tea.

  “Indeed,” McMicking said, stroking his lip thoughtfully. “Offhand, I’d say he’s getting ready to move out the rest of his coral.”

  “Going to be tricky,” I said. “The stuff was pretty firmly mounted in his little artificial stream. At eight million dollars for the lot, it won’t take much damage to start chewing up the potential profits.”

  “Better a smaller piece than having the whole pie snatched off your cooling rack,” McMicking said. “And if he’s making his move, it’s about time we thought about making ours.”

  I looked around the restaurant. With the impromptu floor show over, the rest of the diners had returned to their meals and conversation. “You have a plan for getting to his coral?” I asked.

  “I have three,” McMicking said. “Unfortunately, all of them assumed only one house that would need to be burgled and several days with which to plan the operation.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to improvise,” I said.

  He inclined his head. “I guess we will.”

  “But first we need to get Rebekah off New Tigris,” Bayta put in suddenly.

  I looked at her in surprise. “Yes, we’ll do that,” I assured her. “But Veldrick’s coral—”

  “It can wait,” Bayta cut me off tartly. “Rebekah’s in danger. We have to get her clear.”

  I looked at McMicking, saw my same puzzlement reflected there. “Is she in more danger than she was two hours ago?” I asked, looking back at Bayta.

  “I don’t know,” she said. Her cheek and throat muscles were tight as she gazed pleadingly at me. “I just know that we have to get to her. Now.”

  I looked around the restaurant again. Bayta got worked up like this so seldom that it was always something of a shock.

  But when it did happen, it was worth paying attention to. “Okay,” I said slowly. “We can’t make a move against the coral anyway until we know where Veldrick’s got the other pieces stashed. McMicking can handle that while you and I sneak Rebekah out of hiding and through Customs onto our torchyacht.”

  I looked at McMicking. “By then, you should have the coral’s locations nailed down. Rebekah and Bayta will lift off and head for the Tube, and I’ll come back to town to help you with your burglaries.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” McMicking said.

  “Not to me it doesn’t,” Bayta said. “I don’t know how to fly a torchyacht.”

  “You won’t have to,” I said. “With the minuscule traffic level around here, I should be able to set up a straight autolift while we’re working the preflight. I’ll also set your course for a low-speed, leisurely trip to the Tube, which will give McMicking and me plenty of time to catch up to you in his torchyacht. At that point I’ll come aboard with you and Rebekah and fly us the rest of the way.”

  “Of course, we’ll also have to deal with Customs once we reach the transfer station,” McMicking warned. “They’ll certainly have been alerted to the coral theft by the time we get there.”

  “I’m sure you already have a plan for that part,” I said.

  McMicking shrugged. “Any suggestions as to how I go about finding the rest of Veldrick’s coral?”

  “There are a couple of options,” I said. “How are your computer hacking skills these days?”

  “Adequate.”

  “Good,” I said. “Option one: hack into the Crown Rosette computer system. See who Veldrick’s been doing business with since the Hardin rep noticed his coral three months ago.”

  “Paying special attention to the non-Humans on the list,” McMicking said, nodding his understanding.

  “Exactly,” I said. “That should give you the most likely recipients. Once you’ve got that, hack into the city’s utilities system and find out which of them had their water bills shoot up recently.”

  McMicking frowned. “Their water bills?”

  “Modhran coral does best with cold water flowing around it,” Bayta told him.

  “Right,” I said. “For anything long-term you’d normally hook up a closed system to cool and recycle the same water. But I doubt Veldrick’s buddies had such gadgetry available.”

  “And even if they put something together later, there should still be a temporary spike in their water usage,” McMicking said. “Sounds promising.”

  “Option two is we break in on Veldrick and beat the snot out of him until he gives us names and addresses,” I said. “We should probably keep that one in reserve.”

  “Probably,” McMicking agreed. “Sounds like a plan. Are you going to need anything from me before I head back to the hotel and get started?”

  “Just your comm number,” I said. “We’ll want to keep in touch on each other’s progress.” I cocked my head. “I presume you already have my number?”

  “Of course,” he said, and gave me his. “You might also need this,” he added, shifting slightly in his seat.

  Something hard settled onto my lap under the table. I reached down and found myself touching a small handgun. “I might, indeed,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Dual clip; left side is snoozers.” Pushing back his chair, he stood up. “Good hunting.”

&nb
sp; “And to you,” I said, slipping the gun into my holster. “I take it I’m paying for dinner?”

  “Of course.” He gave me a faint smile. “You ever hear of a lawyer who picked up his client’s tab? Good hunting to you.”

  “And to you,” I said.

  He left. I paid with one of my cash sticks, and then Bayta and I also headed out into the streets. “Is this sudden-danger thing connected with how you knew where she was?” I asked her as we walked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Just a hunch, then?”

  She bristled. “You have hunches all the time.”

  She had me there. “Fine,” I said, looking around. Night had fallen with a resounding crash while we’d been eating, leaving the sky a star-freckled black above us. But the streetlights were going strong, wrapping Imani City in a deceptively nice homey glow. “Any other thoughts or speculations you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

  A shiver ran through her. “Only that there’s something wrong here,” she said, her voice graveyard dark. “The Modhri truce—Mr. Veldrick—the coral. It doesn’t add up.”

  “I know,” I said grimly. “Let’s just hope we can figure it out before we’re up to our necks in trouble.”

  “Or even deeper?”

  “Or even deeper,” I said. I hated it when she came up with mental images like that. “Come on, let’s find an autocab.”

  EIGHT

  This time we had no problem flagging down an autocab. Apparently, they did most of their grid-roving after dark.

  With Veldrick’s habit of sifting through autocab records in mind, I directed the vehicle to an address in Makarr District, one district over from Zumurrud. When we arrived, I paid the tab, then doubled the amount and sent the autocab back to the Hanging Gardens.

  It disappeared around the corner, and Bayta and I headed off on foot for Zumurrud District and Karim’s bar.

  Makarr, which seemed to be mostly residential, was pretty quiet tonight. Zumurrud, in contrast, was hopping. The populace was out in force, most of them young, most of them angry or frustrated-looking, nearly all of them drinking. Judging by the buzz of conversation leaking out their open doors, the taverns and gaming rooms were doing a brisk business. So were the street corners and doorways where we’d seen the kids congregating earlier in the day.

  Fortunately, none of the simmering anger beneath the hard drinking seemed directed specifically at the two strangers walking through their midst. Still, we collected our share of curious glances and suspicious glares. Occasionally, I saw one of the youths who’d seen us that afternoon nudge one of his buddies and mutter something under his breath.

  Twice, outside the entrances of particularly boisterous taverns, a group of thrill-seekers looked as if they were considering stepping into our path. Both times, I slipped my hand quietly but pointedly beneath my jacket and got a grip on the Beretta that McMicking had given me. The would-be toughs spotted the gun, got the message, and backed off.

  The street with Karim’s bar was as busy as the rest of the district. Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, though, this particular block came equipped with quiet sentries. The four teens I’d had my brief run-in with had now become two pairs, one set standing casual guard at either end of the block.

  The closer pair spotted us as we approached. One of the teens was Oved, the boy I’d had the staged tussle with earlier. He gave us a microscopic nod of acknowledgment as we approached while his partner wandered off toward a quiet alleyway, comm in hand, presumably to call Karim with the news of our arrival.

  Behind Oved’s grim expression, I noted as we passed, his eyes showed the slight puffiness of recent tears. Karim must have told him Lorelei was dead.

  The bar was doing brisk business tonight. I spotted Karim in the back by the bar, pretending to watch the bartender making the drinks. He caught my eye as we came in and nodded sideways toward the office door.

  I glanced over the clientele as Bayta and I headed back. They were for the most part older men, most of them displaying the same simmering frustration that I’d seen in the more teen-intensive parts of the district.

  I wondered if there were any police informants among them.

  The office was dark except for a small writing light that didn’t illuminate much beyond the center of the desk. I closed and locked the door behind us and headed for the hidden trapdoor. “Shouldn’t we wait for Mr. Karim?” Bayta asked as I pushed the desk chair out of the way.

  “Why?” I asked. “We know how to get in.”

  “Rebekah might be more comfortable if he came in with us,” she said, a little crossly.

  I looked up at her. “Would she?” I asked.

  Bayta’s lips compressed briefly. “I don’t know. I just thought . . .” She trailed off.

  Another hunch? “Okay, fine,” I said, straightening up. “We wait for Karim.”

  I was only going to give the man two minutes to show before I headed down without him. Fortunately, less than half that time elapsed before there was the click of a disengaging lock and Karim slipped into the office.

  “Were you followed?” he asked as he relocked the door behind him.

  “Ask your sentries,” I said. “They’re the ones who know who belongs here and who doesn’t.”

  He grunted as he stepped past me and stooped down to tackle the hidden door. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I think something’s happened. Rebekah is frightened. Really frightened.”

  “Did you ask her why?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me.” He looked pointedly up at me. “But she wasn’t like this until after you left this afternoon.”

  “A lot of things happen in a city this size over the course of a few hours,” I reminded him. “Not all of them have anything to do with us.”

  “True,” he agreed. But his eyes lingered on my face another moment before he returned his attention to the trapdoor.

  A few seconds later, he had it open. “I’ll go first,” he said.

  “No, you’ll stay here,” I told him. “If there’s trouble, we’ll need someone to lock down the door.”

  He snorted. “A futile gesture,” he scoffed. “Others will have seen you come in here.”

  “And tearing the place up while they look for the rabbit hole will take time,” I countered. “Time is always a good thing to have.”

  Again, his eyes searched my face. “As you wish,” he said. Stepping away from the shaft, he gestured me toward it.

  “Thank you.” I gestured in turn to Bayta. “After you.”

  Silently, she got her feet on the ladder and started down. With one final look at Karim, I followed.

  We passed through the curtain and into the hidden room. Rebekah was again sitting cross-legged on the bed, just as she’d been the last time I was here.

  Karim was right. In the past few hours something had definitely happened to the girl. Her face was drawn and even paler than it had been earlier. Her shoulders were hunched, and her throat was tight. “Hello, Rebekah,” I greeted her cautiously.

  “Hello, Mr. Compton,” she said. Speaking to me, but with her eyes locked on Bayta.

  I looked at Bayta. Her eyes were locked just as tightly on Rebekah. “This is Bayta,” I said, looking back at Rebekah. “You asked about her earlier.”

  “Yes,” Rebekah said, an odd breathiness in her voice. “I’m . . . honored . . . Ms. Bayta.”

  “Just Bayta,” Bayta told her. She had some of Rebekah’s same breathiness in her voice, too. “We’ve come to get you out of here.”

  To my surprise, a pair of tears trickled down Rebekah’s cheeks. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “I can’t go.”

  “Of course you can,” I said, taking a step toward her. “If you’re too weak to handle the ladder—”

  “Don’t touch me!” she snapped with sudden fire.

  I braked to an abrupt halt. For a second there a real live scared ten-year-old had peeked out through all that unnatural ma
turity I’d seen in her earlier. “Sure,” I soothed, searching her face for some clue to her reaction. “Do you need me to carry you out?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I told you, I can’t go. I can’t move. If I do, he’ll know where I am.”

  An unpleasant tingle went up my back. “You mean the Modhri?”

  She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  I touched Bayta’s arm, nodded back over my shoulder. Together, we backed out of the room into the passageway, stopping at the curtain. “Okay, I give up,” I murmured. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Bayta said, her eyes focused on something about five-sixths of the way to infinity. “But I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it,” I growled. “Are you saying the Modhri’s developed his own psychic radar now?”

  “It’s not radar,” Bayta said. “I don’t know what it is. But she is in danger, Frank.”

  “Why?” I demanded. “What can possibly be so important about a lone ten-year-old girl? I mean, this isn’t—”

  “It isn’t what?” Bayta asked.

  “Never mind,” I growled. I’d been about to tell her this simply wasn’t how the Modhri did things.

  But how the hell did I know how the Modhri did things? I didn’t even understand how this whole group mind thing worked, let alone what kind of alien thoughts or motivations he might have.

  I took a deep breath. Fine. Western Alliance Intelligence had trained me to be a detective. It was about time I did some detecting.

  Assume Karim was right, that something new and critical had happened sometime in the past four hours. What could that something be?

  Bayta and I had visited Rebekah. We’d been hauled away for a visit to Veldrick. We’d run across McMicking and had dinner with him. Veldrick had tried to have me thrown into jail for a few hours, possibly because he was trying to move more of his coral.

  Trying to move more of his coral . . .

  “Bayta, we were talking at dinner about telepathic overlap between the Modhri and Humans,” I said. “Presumably, Humans can’t sense the Modhri—or vice versa—any better than you and the Spiders can. Right?”