by Jo Clayton
The bigger man’s voice was a low rumble and harder to make out. She thought she caught a question about a phot, but she wasn’t sure until the short man came back holding a jewelcase in his hand.
He held the phot up so she could see the tridda image inside. A young woman with a pretty, round face, long black hair and white streaks like wings over her ears. Wide shoulders, wide hips, a narrow waist. Shadith almost burst out giggling. Even Digby hadn’t come up with a phot and here her captors were showing her just what she needed to know.
“Have you seen this woman at any time?”
“No,”
“Look closely at the phot. Look at her face. Look at her ears, at her left hand. See the crooked little finger. Think carefully. Have you seen anyone who looks like this woman?”
“No.”
He lowered the phot. “I…”
A hand closed on his shoulder. The big man bent, whispered in his ear. He nodded. “Shadow, if we let you go, what will you do?”
“Go back to The Tank, sing there till I can earn enough to buy a low passage on a worldship and go on till I feel like stopping.”
The big man whispered again, longer this time.
Shadith decided it was time to start acting edgy. She tugged at the straps on her arms, put on a puzzled frown. “Wha… why…” She tugged harder, started moving her head about. “Where… what’s happening?”
“Nothing you need worry about. We’re not going to hurt you unless you make us.”
Whimpering, panting, Shadith ignored him and started fighting the straps, throwing herself about, making the chair rock, putting on as reasonable a show as she could manage without falling over and cracking her head on the tiles…
The snake man moved for the first time. He came over to her, slapped her hard, then stood beside her with his hand closed on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her flesh. He still said nothing, but she decided that she could get his point and stop her struggles.
The big man moved to the door. “Gantz, clean her up, flush her out, bring her upstairs. Krink, get over here. You stay outside the door, on watch. I’ve got a thought about using her and I don’t want you messing it up. You hear me?”
“I hear.”
Shadith’s stomach knotted at the concentrated venom in those two words and found herself happy that Krink the snake was too afraid of Boss to go for him. She watched Gantz warily as the door shut.
He saw that. “Don’t worry, woman. Grinder would have my guts for fishpoison if I laid a finger on you. You better remember that and do what he wants without smart talk or slacking. He isn’t called Grinder for sweetness of temper and gentility of manner.” He brought the blowgun from a pocket in his robe, worked over it for a few minutes. “You’ll be feeling limp as overcooked noodles right now, what I’m going to give you will perk you right up, blow the fog out of your head.”
“No. ’m all ri’. Don’ do poppers.”
“You don’t really have a choice, love. Him, he wants you alert and ready to listen. And that’s what he’s going to get.”
“Lylunda Elang belongs to me,” Grinder said.
Shadith forced herself to sit still; though she’d done the catchment trick again with the popper, the residue had her so wired she felt as if her eyes were ready to explode out of her head and every sound was a scrape along her nerves.
“Maybe she doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine.”
She’d seen eyes like his before-after a moment it came to her where. Lute’s eyes. Ginny Seyirshi’s pet killer. That time she got snatched into one of the Deathmaker’s scenarios. She swallowed several times and didn’t have to pretend to be frightened.
“She’s gone missing. Six days ago. Maybe on her own. Maybe Digby’s agent got her. Yeh. I know about Digby. Who doesn’t. Maybe the Kliu bought her father and got her that way. I can handle things this side of the Wall, you’re going to sift Star Street for me.”
Four days! Would you believe, the target disappears four miserable days after I get here. What stinking luck. She folded her-hands in her lap and looked nervous. It wasn’t hard. “Uh I don’t mean to be… urn negative about this and I’ll do my best, sure I will, but I’m just a singer.”
He contemplated her a moment. “Don’t play the ditty fool with me. You’re not good enough at it to be entertaining. Why you? I’ll tell you straight, I can keep it quiet over here and out in backcountry, but Star Street’s different. I don’t want the word spreading I’ve been took over by a femme. Too many hopeful yappers biting at my heels. You’ve got a reason for asking, so I’m going to use it. Let me warn you, singer. I’ve got ears over there. You ran into one of ’em. If I hear you’re talking too much, I’ll send Krink over with his calf strap. He’ll enjoy that. Yes, I see you know what I mean. Don’t try conning your way onto a trader’s ship. You’ll be dead before you reach the ladder. You understand?”
“I’m going to have to ask questions.”
“Word will be spread by morning. What you told us. That Lylunda’s your friend and you’ve got a message for her. That it’s good for you to be asking and better for them to give you the answers you want. I’m sure you can see the difference.”
“Yes. Clever. I will be discreet and diligent. You’ve convinced me my health depends on that.”
“Good.”
“And my diligence starts now. I need to know the circumstances of her disappearance. And I’d like a copy of that phot.”
“Why? Not the phot, I’ll see you get that. The other.”
“As you said, I’m not stupid, merely reluctant. The fewer questions I have to ask, the less I give away. The more I know to start with, the fewer questions I have to ask.”
“I see. Lylunda was working for me. You don’t need to know about that, so don’t ask. She left the job, went home to her rooming house. She was picked up there by one of Hizurri-jaz Gautaxo’s couriers. He’s the head of the Duk’s Secret Police and he also happens to be Lylunda’s father. She’s the bastard he got when her mother was his hot little Izar piece, so there’s no telling just what he wanted with her. She stayed there for a little over two hours. Courier brought her back through the Izar gate, walked her to the front door of her rooming house, left her while she was using her keys to open the vestibule door. She was seen by at least five different people who knew her well enough to be sure it was her. That was the last time anyone saw her.”
“Late. After dark?”
“Yes and an overcast night. I thought about that. They recognized the clothes. More than that, they recognized the way she moved.”
“Still… a good actress the right size and shape…”
“Yes. I thought about that. I don’t know.”
“Did she have a credit chip? She hired you to watch her back, didn’t she. To warn her if the Kliu got too close. Like me, I was supposed to warn her about Digby.”
“Yes. Everything she brought with her was cleaned out of her room.”
“What I’ve heard about the Behilarr jazzies, they’ve all got fiefdoms out in the backcountry. Maybe he sent her out there.”
“No. I’ve had that looked into.”
“You told me you’d know if I tried to hop a ship. I expect you’d know it if she did.”
“I would if she tried it after I found out she was gone. Before then, there’s a seven-hour window when she might have made it.”
“That’s what you want me to check, isn’t it.”
“Part of it.”
“Can you get me a printout of all shuttle and ship departures in those seven hours?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. If you can get it, you might add to that a list of departures from the transfer station. I know enough abotit who’s traveling around out there that it might tell me something it wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’ll get it.”
She sighed, rubbed at her eyes. “With all the stuff your bootlicker pumped into me, I’m about wiped. Can I go home now, get some sleep?”
“Y
ou understand what I want?”
“Yes, you made it quite cleat”
“And I want results. Fast.”
“Yes.”
“Then you go like you came.”
6
Shadith came out of stunner, shock with a throbbing head and body that felt as if she’d been beaten with a rubber hose. The curtains to her single window had been drawn and the morning sun was streaming in. She looked down at herself and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw she was still wearing the damp dirty clothes from last night. She remembered her harp and sat up too fast, yelping with pain as her head threatened to explode, her stomach to erupt, and all she could see was a rainy silver aura with black spots in it that wobbled and darted like tadpoles.
When she pried her eyes open again, to her considerable relief, she saw the harpcase leaning against the wall beside the door.
She eased her legs over the edge of the bed and contemplated getting up. The thought of food revolted her, but she needed the energy. Lot of work to get through this day and the next.
7
Tank looked at Shadith, sighed, and shook his head. “I have to live here,” he said. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, that you did.” She finished clearing off the table in the dressing room, snapped her bag shut. “You know what he’s got me doing. I’ll be too busy to sing as well as disinclined. See you.” She swept past him, still angry at him. Reporting her activities she could accept as part of the game; setting her up for a snatch was something else.
When she unlocked the door to the room she’d rented and stepped inside, she caught a whiff of jorrat and went very still; a quick probe with her reach, though, told her the place was empty.
A cardboard folder lay in the middle of the rumpled bedspread.
No one here now, but there had been, someone with a jorrat pipe who’d left the stink of his habit behind. Makes you feel really secure the way that lot waltzes in without breaking a sweat. And I suppose those are the printouts. Grinder works fast. Or he already had them.
“And now I get to wear out my eyes on ship data. Tsah!”
She went out, leaned over the railing. “Orrialdy,” she yelled. “You around?”
Her landlady came into the hall on the floor below, a big woman with an abundance of hair, wisps escaping the knot she kept it in to wave around her plush pink face. “Shadow, so?”
“Think you could bring me up a pot of your tea?”
“That I could. Right now?”
“If you will. Door’ll be unlocked.”
After Orrialdy left, Shadith filled her mug with hot tea and opened the folder. Her brows rose as she realized just how much data Grinder had included in the report. Not only the names and descriptions of the ships which left in that seven-hour window, but a history of their appearances here on Hutsartк going back at least ten years, along with short descriptions of owners and crew. There were only three of them, but still…
She set that aside and took up the second set of printouts.
Shuttle flights. Five. Four were cargo lifts with stasis crates. Meat wagons. It might be possible to shove the woman in with the crates. Assuming Daddy was behind the disappearance… which seemed likely since he’d cared enough about Lylunda to see that she was educated and given a chance to get away from here… and considering he was head of government security, he could do things like that. But. It would also leave him open to blackmail or betrayal… hm…
She looked down the lists of the crews. No disappearances or fatal accidents. And none of them had looked up Grinder with news for sale. Not a sure thing, but close enough-to cross this one off.
One of the shuttles was a passenger lift. Hm. Eleven riding it. Passengers and crew all male. Only place to stow her was the baggage compartment and… yes, crew still in business and no comment by Grinder. So, set this one aside, too. Which means the ships in the-tie-downs at the Transfer Station are probably no-goes.
She glanced over that list, found nothing that interested her, and set it aside.
Which left the three on-ground ships.
The K’Jatt, a converted sting ship, owner Lomkael Jurd, dealing in hides and hOrn. She looked at his history. He was in and out all the time, every few weeks. Must stay in the Pseudo Cluster and do all his trading here. He hasn’t got time to get anywhere else, not in that little ship. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of what that hold must smell like, then noticed the last date. He’s back here now Spla! Cross him off, thank whatever. I doubt Daddy would deal with someone in his face all the time.
The second was a Jilitera trader. The Jherada, owner listed as the Jilitera Trust. Hm. She took a sip of the tea and grimaced because it was barely lukewarm. She poured more from the pot and went back to contemplating the readout. Dealing in local plants… the poisonous ones, of course… here’s a note-they’d asked about the fish, but no one was interested in supplying those… which reminds me… that ship… the Elang wouldn’t have anything in there about where she dropped the array… smuggler… she’ll be cautious about what’s private and part of her assets… if Digby got his hands on that kephalos, though… he could go snooping through its innards… rumor is he can scrute the inscrutable and twist the tail on any enigma ever born… but do I want him to do that? He talks good flesh, but how much do I trust him on something like this? Answer to that is not at all… but 1 can use that ship to get out of here without Grinder going nervous on me… he gets nervous and I get dead.
Set aside for now… Jilitera, ship history… set down here seven years ago, then three years, then this last one. I don’t know much about them. Does anyone? Jilitera. Homeworld unknown… maybe they don’t have one… ship born, ship bound… langue unknown… all contacts made with interlingue. trade in plants and plant derivatives… whatever… known as poisoners… trade a lot with University… yes, I remember that time when Aslan wanted to interview some of them. hmp! No outsiders on the ship… no crew even talking to outsiders.
Not likely Daddy chose that one for his little girl. Hm. If the third ship blows out on me, maybe I’d better reconsider those shuttles… Ship, the Vouist… interesting… there’s a note-converted trooper, Rummul Empire… like Swarda’s Slancy Orza… though I’d wager she doesn’t have anything like Orza’s drives… She shook her head. “You’d think I’d keep my mind on business. Stop rambling, Shadow.”
Rummul Empire trooper, owner-Pitroc. Another note. Cover name, real name Harmon… “Sar! First Sapato, now Harmon. Arms dealers I have known. Hm. He dropped a cargo in one of the warehouses, it was picked up three days later by a Chandava merchanter. Definitely old home week. Note doesn’t say what the cargo was, but are we really baffled? And, the answer is no.” I think this is it, Shadow old girl. Arms dealers have tight mouths and like to do favors for people in power. Head of Security here? He has to know what’s shifting through those warehouses. And Harmon looks such a twerp, Daddy would think his kid would be safe.
And maybe he’d be right, I haven’t a clue about Harmon’s little pleasures.
She sat tapping the fingers of her right hand on the stack of papers, sipping at the tea, and staring at the three locks on her door-locks about as useful as a piece of string if the right people wanted to go through them.
After a minute of that, she got to her feet and started pacing about the room. Seemed likely the jorrat freak left more than the printouts. She could hunt for the pickups… get the room sweep from the Trick Kit… which she’d stashed up in the attic, gods be blessed, that would have blown her cover for sure… hah! talk about blowing cover, kit aside, just doing a sweep and cleaning out the bugs…
Figure out a way to use them? Everything I do everything I say here will be picked up by some watcher… Clothes? No problem, she’d bought them for the role. The medkit? Have to take that, too much of me in it. The harp? No way I’m leaving that behind. Have to figure something. Digby’s toolkit. Have to collect that. Stinking Grinder…, but at least he’s not of-ficial hm, Daddy dear t
he Muck Policeman, does he have his thumb planted on Tank, too? Gods! that would be a mess for sure, ol’ Tank cringing to all comers. Ah spla, I’ve definitely got to get out of here. Use the bugs… we’ll have ourselves a little drama here. Act I scene 1: The spy is working hard but frustrated because she isn’t getting anywhere. She stops her pacing, sits at the table…
Shadith pulled the chair out, settled herself, and once again began leafing through the printouts, frowning at them, looking up at intervals to scowl at the door. She used the time to think over her conclusions and ended more convinced than ever that Lylunda Elang had left Hutsarte on Harmon’s ship.
Hope that’s long enough to bore the hair off whoever’s watching. Act I scene 2: The spy vents her frustration on the folder, announces she’s bored with this and is going to take a break…
She slapped the folder shut, tossed it onto the bed. Rubbed her eyes. Tilted the pot over the mug for the last bitter drops of room-temperature tea. “Sar! Enough for today. B000ring. I think I’ll rent me one of the Tinkerman’s flits and go write me another song. Unless it’s raining.” She pushed away from the table and went to the window.
The clouds were high and scattered. It might rain after dark, but probably not until then. Time I had some luck. “Harp; where’s my harp. Ah there. My bag. Spla, my hands are mucky. Better wash first. Hm. Change my clothes, it’s cooler out on the water…”
Twenty minutes later she stuffed the folder into her ybag and reached for the door latch. Act I scene 3: Exit one spy.
8
“Eh, Shadow, you look like the world treating you good. Where you off to?”
“Eh, Getto, taking a flit out for a sail. Want to come?”
“Different strokes, Shadow. Me I get seasick if I even look at water. Gonna make another song?”
“Want to. Might. They come when they come, you know.” She fluttered her fingers at him and went on her way.