“You need to talk with me.” She waved a hand, and walls came down behind her, shutting her desk off from the rest of her office suite.
He felt almost as if he were being imprisoned. He said nothing as she walked past him toward her desk.
“You realize that we have had to shut down outgoing train service. Incoming trains were ordered to return to their originating cities, unless they were close to Armstrong. If they arrived within the past hour, they were allowed to stay. No one is flying off-Moon tonight, although space traffic is allowing vehicles to land.”
She stopped in front of the windows and stared out them. She seemed mesmerized by the sight of the city, as if she had never been up there before.
Then she sighed and continued. “The Dome is closed. There will be no outgoing business until this woman is caught. Fortunately, most of the day workers had returned to the Dome by the time the Dome closure order went out. The weekly workers have enough rations to get them through this week and the next, although the hikers and the recreationalists might be in trouble.”
She turned and faced him. “Armstrong has more dome closures than any other city on the Moon.”
“Because of the space port,” Flint said, then wished he hadn’t. She hadn’t given him leave to speak.
But she nodded, apparently not upset that he had spoken out of turn. “Yes, because of the space port. But that has other effects on the city. We are considered a less reliable place to do business than, say, Gagarin Dome, and we lose a lot of industry because of it.”
He suppressed a sigh. He didn’t want to be talking about business or politics. He knew the history of the colony and its business practices as well as anyone, and he really didn’t care about them at the moment. He cared about finding Palmer.
“Your little fugitive is a problem,” Hobell said. “Generally, escapees are dumber than Moon rocks, but this woman isn’t. If your hastily filed report is accurate, she managed to avoid the Rev or steal a space yacht or both.”
He had submitted the report on the way to the Complex. He was stunned that Hobell had already read it.
“In other words, she’s smart. And so far, she’s managed to stay one step ahead of everyone. This worries me, Flint.”
Hobell’s eyes were a clear gray. They seemed to match the silver of her hair.
“It worries me too, sir,” he said.
“What is this?” she asked without humor. “No begging? No groveling?”
Apparently she was used to officers coming in and giving her excuses. He had none.
“I can explain what I believe happened if you’re willing to listen,” he said.
“I know what happened,” Hobell said. “DeRicci is the primary. You’re a new detective. You do as she says. She screwed up again, and you weren’t able to stop her. It’s admirable of you to try to stick up for her, but there’s no need to do that. Her record speaks for itself.”
Flint felt the muscles in his back tighten as she spoke. DeRicci had predicted this response. He was a bit surprised at the vehemence of the chief’s words.
“In my time working with Noelle DeRicci,” Flint said softly, “she’s shown herself to be personally difficult, outspoken, and rude.”
Hobell nodded.
“But,” Flint said, “she has also been extremely competent.”
“Are you saying the mistake is yours?” Hobell asked.
“I’m not assigning blame,” Flint said. “Nor am I making excuses. I’m just saying that Noelle DeRicci has a bad reputation and I’m not sure why. From my observation, she does her job and she does it well.”
“She didn’t do it well today.” Hobell glanced out the windows at the city beyond. “We’re all paying for that.”
“Yes, we are.” Flint couldn’t let DeRicci take the blame for this, no matter what she wanted him to do. “As you said, Greta Palmer is smart. She fooled someone in that yacht, whether it was the Rev or the crew. She fooled the space cops on the ground here. And DeRicci and I underestimated her.”
“Underestimated? That’s the word you use?”
“Yes, sir,” Flint said. “You read my report. You know that we were told to report to the docks to deal with a terrified tourist who may or may not cause publicity problems for Armstrong.”
The chief raised her head. For the first time in the conversation, she looked up at him, as if she had forgotten to keep her distance.
“We hadn’t been informed that the yacht was in Terminal Five, which meant that Traffic thought it was stolen. We found out that information ourselves, and even then, we didn’t know what it meant. Greta Palmer’s story fit with the revised scenario. She could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You still believe she was.”
“I don’t know.” Flint wasn’t going to tell the chief his suspicions. He didn’t have enough evidence to show that the pilot and his crew might have sold out Greta Palmer. Even if he did mention it, that detail wouldn’t ease his problem with the chief. She would see that as proof of the fact that Palmer should have been watched all along.
“When one suspects danger,” Hobell said, “there are procedures to follow.”
“We interviewed her, sir, and heard some suspicious things. But we had been told that she was probably a tourist. We saw nothing that contradicted that possibility.” He clasped his hands behind his back, so that he looked like he was standing at attention. “There are procedures for handling tourists as well, sir. We’re supposed to go easy with them.”
“Well, you certainly went easy with her.”
“No, sir, beg pardon, but we didn’t.” Flint spoke quietly. He could almost hear DeRicci telling him to shut up, to stop digging himself in deeper. But he couldn’t let this go. He had a hunch that DeRicci was on her last legs here, and that she didn’t have anywhere else to go. “When I left Noelle, she was going to bring Palmer in. She had two guards accompany them. That’s not standard procedure for treating tourists. She also used a department prisoner transport aircar. The only thing we did not do was put restraints on Palmer.”
Hobell’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you think restraints were necessary?”
“I found when I worked Traffic that people don’t care if they’re transported in prison ships. But they do care if their hands are locked together.”
“You think that if she was a tourist, she wouldn’t sue over the transportation but she would over the restraints?”
“That’s my experience, sir.” He was taking the blame for this after all. DeRicci would be furious with him if she ever found out.
The chief placed her hands on her hips and studied him for a moment. It was as if she were trying to figure out if he was lying to her just by staring at him.
“You’re saying that Greta Palmer is even smarter than I’m giving her credit for.”
Flint nodded.
“Which means that she’ll be extremely difficult to catch.”
“Especially if she has friends here,” he said.
Hobell’s mouth thinned. “Do you think that she really is wanted by the Rev?”
“I think at the very least, the Rev want to talk with her,” Flint said. “After all, she covered her ass when she tried to land the yacht by saying that the Rev would come after her as the lone survivor of their attack—or whatever you want to call that.”
“And at worst, she’s the one the Rev are after.”
“Yes,” Flint said.
The chief shook her head, walked to the desk, and leaned on it. Then she shook her head again, as if she were disagreeing with her own thoughts.
“You realize that I planned on reprimanding you and demoting DeRicci,” she said.
“No, sir, I hadn’t realized that,” Flint said. But he had suspected it. So had DeRicci.
Hobell raised her eyebrows. He had a hunch she was unconvinced about his last statement. “I’ve been thinking about what you said and your report, and I can’t find any flaws in your reasoning. I wish I could because
I would much rather blame this crisis on your mishandling of Palmer than on her cleverness.”
“Yes, sir,” Flint said.
She finally smiled. “‘Yes, sir,’” she mocked. “You are deceptively polite, Flint. I looked at your record before you came in. You’re not the most docile man either.”
“Either?” he asked.
“DeRicci’s misdeeds are flamboyant. Yours often stretch the interpretation of the law, but never in a way that anyone can complain about.”
He felt a flush begin to warm his face and he willed the reaction to stop. He didn’t dare appear vulnerable in front of this woman.
“I still believe that Noelle DeRicci is one of the most troublesome detectives that we have, but you have convinced me that I might have misjudged her in this incident. When you have a troublesome employee, you tend to blame everything that goes wrong on that employee’s errors and not see the facts for what they are.”
He almost yes-sired her again, but refrained from doing so. He didn’t want her to mock him again.
“I believe she knows that the entire department is watching her closely, and I’m sure she expects punishment in this instance.”
“She told me to blame the entire thing on her, sir,” he said, “so that my career would be all right.”
Hobell tilted her head back. “You could have done that. I wouldn’t have thought less of you.”
“I would have,” he said quietly.
She smiled. It softened her face. He had been wrong about the smoothness of her skin. Light lines covered her cheeks, all of them laugh lines, all of them making her quite attractive.
“We might think of getting you a job in public relations, Flint. You’ve managed to turn me around. Imagine what you could do with the press.”
“That would frustrate me, sir,” he said, not certain if she was serious.
Her eyes twinkled. “You don’t like light-hearted moments, do you?”
“Not when there’s something else I should be doing, no, sir.”
“And you should be chasing your fugitive?”
He nodded.
“Well, I disagree,” Hobell said. “That’s what street patrols are for. They’ll find her.”
“I think it might take some detecting, sir.”
The twinkle had become pronounced. “I’m sure it will, Flint. And if you think of anything the street patrols should know, send the information directly to me. Until then, I have another job for you.”
He suppressed a sigh. He was working on enough cases and, despite the story he had just fed the police chief, he did feel guilty about losing Palmer. He’d been going over it and over it, wondering if it had been his fault in some way.
Apparently he had managed to hide his irritation, because she continued. “Just before I came in here, I had word from space traffic control.”
The tension in his back grew worse. He’d had too many cases at the Port these last few days. He didn’t want another one.
The twinkle had left her eyes. “A Rev prison ship is in orbit,” she said. “They want Palmer.”
He let out the sigh. “I’d expected that.”
“So did we,” she said. “In fact, given the stories Palmer told, I would have expected the Rev ship sooner. And I’m surprised that it’s a prison ship. I would have thought we’d see one of their military ships or even a diplomatic vessel.”
“The Rev aren’t going to be happy that she’s escaped,” Flint said.
“We haven’t told them that.” Hobell hadn’t moved from the desk. Her posture appeared to be relaxed, but he could see tension in her muscles too. “In fact, we’ve led them to believe that we had no idea they were looking for her, that she had done anything wrong.”
“They’re buying that?”
“For the moment.” Any hint of a smile had long ago left her face. “But we are going to have to deal with them, and we are going to have to do our best to keep them calm.”
He’d dealt with the Rev before. They came to this part of the Moon often. “The Rev don’t take setbacks well.”
“I know,” she said. “So you’re going to have to do your best with them.”
“Me?” he said, his heart beginning to pound hard.
“You and DeRicci. You get to find out the real story from the Rev. The Rev usually don’t lie, so we can rely on what they tell us.”
“They also have a nasty way of taking matters into their own hands if they don’t get what they want,” he said.
“I know.” She slid off the desk, and walked around it, staring at the city one more time. Apparently she took her inspiration from it. Or perhaps she thought she could see Palmer from here if she only stared out there long enough. “You can look at this as a punishment for losing the prisoner, Flint.”
“Is that what it is?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I’m just using my resources wisely.”
“Let’s hope so,” he said. “Because I don’t like being around frustrated Rev.”
“No one does,” she said.
Eighteen
Fortunately, Flint did not have to meet the Rev at the Port. They waited for him in one of the interrogation rooms in the First Detective Division.
The room smelled faintly of ginger, a scent someone had once told him was the Rev equivalent of sweat. It was a bit too hot in there for them, and they probably weren’t used to being in such a small area.
He had forgotten how large the Rev were. Four of them filled a room built for ten humans. The Rev were pear-shaped. They had tiny heads and long thin necks, with two arms near their necks and four above their base. When they walked, the four hands formed fists that were flat on top. The Rev used those arms like a spider would use her legs, moving so rapidly that people who had never seen it before were often surprised.
None of the arms was visible when a Rev was at rest. They seemed to fold into pockets of skin made just for that purpose, leaving the Rev’s torso smooth and unlined.
Someone had removed the room’s table, leaving only a few chairs. Flint was grateful for that. He’d only been inside a moment, and he was already feeling claustrophobic.
The Rev studied him. He greeted them in their own language. His Rev was passable, but not the best. The nearest Rev, a white robe draped around its wide middle and clasped at the neck with real gold, stepped forward.
He bowed his head. Flint did the same.
“You speak Rev,” the Rev said in that language.
“Badly,” Flint replied in the same language. “But I’ve sent for an interpreter. We should be able to muddle along until then.”
The Rev leaned the upper part of his head back, opening his mouth. That look was what passed for a smile in Rev culture. “Your use of idiom suggests that you are being disingenuous.”
“My use of idiom,” Flint said, “is confirmation that I’ve done preliminary interviews with Rev before.”
He didn’t offer them chairs since Rev did not sit down. He wanted to sit, but he couldn’t. They would see it as bad form. Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
He wondered where DeRicci was. He had spoken to her on her link the moment he left the chief’s office and told her to join him. She had promised she’d be there as soon as possible.
Flint had stressed that she was supposed to give up the search, but he had a hunch she didn’t want to. She’d stretch “as soon as she possible” into something much longer, leaving him to deal with the Rev himself.
“We have a warrant for Ekaterina Maakestad,” the Rev said, the name sounding strange in his plate-sized mouth.
Flint made himself focus on the task at hand. “Who?”
“The woman who arrived in the space yacht shortly before we did. We do not know what she calls herself, but her name is Ekaterina Maakestad. She has been wanted on Revnata for more than a decade.”
Flint wished the interpreter had already arrived. He had some questions that he didn’t know how to ask with his limited Rev.
He nodded, knowing better than to hold up a hand in this discussion. The Rev found gestures like that to be rude, in the same way that interrupting them would be.
“The woman gave her name as Greta Palmer.”
“A deception.” The Rev closed his mouth and the line of his lips disappeared into his pale skin. “Matters are worse than we thought.”
“I want you to tell me all about this,” Flint said, “but I would prefer to wait for the interpreter. The more accurate my information, the easier it will be for me to help you.”
“You may help us,” the Rev said, “by bringing the woman to us.”
“She is a human woman, not a Rev,” Flint said, forced to use the English word for “human” since he didn’t know the Rev one. “If she were Rev, I could accommodate you. Since she is one of our people, I must follow our rules.”
“We have a warrant for her,” the Rev said again.
“You have a warrant for a woman whose name I do not recognize,” Flint said. “I believe we are not far apart in this, but you do understand that I must respect our rules.”
The Rev’s small black eyes bulged even farther. It was the first warning sign of Rev anger. Flint eyed the door, making certain he was close enough to get through it if he needed to be.
“The woman who came in the yacht,” the Rev said. “Where is she?”
“Last I saw her, she was in decontamination.” He didn’t know the Rev word for that either. Either that or he had forgotten it. He hadn’t had to use his Rev for nearly two years.
“De-what?” the Rev asked.
“Decontamination,” Flint said. He tried to explain what that was, but found his Rev was even more lacking. Finally he shrugged. “We’ll wait for the interpreter.”
“If this woman is nearby in De-what, we would like to see her,” the Rev said.
“As I said, I can’t do that,” Flint said. “Not until we’re sure we’re talking about the same woman.”
And he found another way to stall them. He hadn’t exactly lied this time—the last time he had seen her was in Decontamination—but he hadn’t told the truth either. He was hoping he could stall long enough for the street patrols to find Palmer. Then he wouldn’t anger the Rev.
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