Micah, Kidwell and Ferrel learned well that one aspect of Blankenship's personality: he knew every relevant protocol even remotely touching his team or Ionoski's and he took them solidly to heart. Even the most minuscule hint of a breach concerned him. Micah saw landing on Mek-Soulda as freedom from a too-small prison. Idly he wondered if that was Blankenship's intent!
"You have your in-place codes? Comm gear? Contact schedule?"
"Yes, yes and yes," said Ferrel with something like patience, "For truth we will be leaving eventually. And with skin and other anatomical necessities intact. This isn't a deep-penetration job!"
Blankenship started to quote a mission protocol but stopped himself.
"Slib."
***
A vast sense of relief washed over Micah when they passed through customs and out of the starport. Their IDs showed a years-long tenure among the asteroid stations in Mek-Bellos and Mek-Ghushi. Micah knew they would check as valid, eventually, if anyone bothered. The one thing he learned from their exfiltration was that asteroid stations rarely had high-quality nets. In the short time they stayed on one Ferrel owned its net completely. All he gained from that was a contempt for asteroid station nets and a nice cryptobase full of validation codes from that one and two dozen others in the system.
"I saw that, my brother," said Ferrel, "Do you know how many mission protocols and general directives you just violated?"
"Round down to the closest hundred," replied Micah.
While Micah and Ferrel retrieved their luggage Kidwell perused a terminal kiosk for data on the grand city of Souldavis. By the time they claimed all the bags she had linear tickets and lodging arranged.
"Did you blind-drop every detail of our next three hours," asked Micah heavily.
"But of course, my love. We can't have poor Keith fretting himself before he moves Ted's new ship away." She batted her eyelashes. "I even informed him of the fact that I need to visit the fresher. If either of you do you'll need to transmit an addendum."
***
Micah wandered through the now-familiar stacks of one of Souldavis' many libraries. After settling in the three of them blind-dropped Blankenship and began their forays into the town and the data it could provide. They kept careful contact with Blankenship but as yet had no incidents to report.
Occasionally Micah stopped to flip through a book and he selected a few of them to skim. All the while he kept a careful eye on Kidwell and Ferrel. The sections Micah prowled all pertained to trade as did the material he took back to his carrel. Not suspiciously so, though, especially considering the sheer amount of material on that subject.
"Pardon, friend," said a voice, "are you interested in trade?"
Micah looked up and locked down on his initial reaction.
"Yes, friend," he said amiably, "it is in my family but distantly."
"Most wonderful," smiled the stranger, "I shall give you a lesson in it! Trade me that copy of Mortois' Guide to Trading Spice for this. It is Demir's most excellent treatise Trading Into the Foreign Palate. Alas that all the other Mortois books are checked out."
"Gladly, makhaj. A fortuitous bargain!" Micah smiled and extended the book.
The other man returned Micah's smile and half-bowed at the title.
"You flatter me, friend. Perhaps one day I shall be a worthy master of trade. May gold and spices fall upon your path."
Micah bowed and the other man walked away. After a few steps he followed, always careful not to let the other see him. Though the stranger felt and spoke Mekhajan he looked Esavian! He settled at a table with five others, two of whom also looked Esavian. He and one of the others immediately opened the book and began studying it. Micah settled where he could observe them without being seen. Occasionally one of the men left for another book but all six of them studied hard. When Kidwell commed him he sent her a find-me.
"We thought you abandoned us," she whispered, pulling down a book and opening it. "You bored?"
"Look at the table at eleven-low," he whispered back.
A sharp intake of breath told him she saw them too.
"Curious. Are you going to follow them?"
"Plus-plus. Is Charlie burning things?"
"Nak. He was truthing about that. I'll pass the word. Message us when you leave, we'll have your six."
Darkness had fallen hard when the six men decided to leave. Micah messaged Kidwell and followed them, careful to conceal his purpose. They boarded a hoverbus and Kidwell slipped in just before it departed. Micah took note of its destination and waited for Ferrel.
The hoverbus traveled to the Badagh, one of Souldavis' and Mek-Soulda's oldest and most historical districts. Micah and Ferrel caught up there and waited, with different faces, at the transit station. The six students debarked with Kidwell not too far behind them. She caught Ferrel's eye and headed for the fresher. He began the task of shadowing their targets.
By the time Kidwell finished changing faces Ferrel had a good lead. Micah and Kidwell boarded their hover and followed the track, careful to stay out of visual range. Before long Ferrel stopped and when they approached they saw him sitting at a small outdoor cafe. They wasted no time joining him.
"All six went into the Grieaux Memorial Cultural and Education Center," said Ferrel, "It was closed but they all had keys or codes."
Before Micah could ask Kidwell had her datapad armed and ready.
"According to the tourist brochure: 'The Grieaux Center is one of Souldavis' oldest and most prestigious institutions dedicated to documenting and preserving Mekhajan culture, history and tradition. Its founding families have endowed it for the past four centuries and continue their contribution to...' blah blah etc. Looks like a pride and heritage parlor and a monumental waste of funding."
"No blather," agreed Micah, "but tell me those men didn't look Esavian."
"The short one looked Tharqi," said Ferrel.
"For truth, they do have some trade with the Mekhajan."
"But not the League," said Ferrel, "They make that abundantly clear whenever one of our ships lands on a Brotherhood planet. But only with words and never weapons."
"Heh. That stape was trading plenty of words," said Kidwell, "He was entirely too social to be Tharqi, but he did have the look."
"I saw what could have been marks," said Micah, "The one talking to me had long sleeves but I looked carefully. I'm not certain but I'd bet on it! But he acted and sounded Mekhajan."
"There's no activity visible here," said Ferrel, "Shall we adjourn to more hospitable climes?"
***
"Question," said Kidwell, "How exactly did he know about Esavian marks?"
The three of them sat, relaxed, with chog and datapads both ready to hand.
"They're not really a secret," said Micah, "Especially after the liberal application of friendship and interest."
"No, Micah. You think he had marks and I'll take it as a given. How did he know what they should be and where they should go?"
"If he knew," interjected Ferrel.
"Hush, Charlie," said Kidwell, "Looking Esavian does not match any trend or fad I've found here or anywhere else. If he chose to look that way it was for a good reason. Therefore even though we don't know how the marks should look we must assume that he does. Likewise the other two."
"It is a cultural education center," said Micah, "Perhaps students?"
"That's plausible," said Kidwell, "and if true it reinforces the question. Anyone can study the Esavians without trying to look like one. That implies he's an advanced student. I posit that we should locate and investigate the school."
No argument!
Chapter 10. The Candy Trap
Micah approached the Cultural Center arm-in-arm with Kidwell. She chattered vacantly but with excitement about the learning opportunities there while he bore it all with an expression of resigned patience. They dropped Ferrel at the closest library with instructions to stay light and not to burn his way into trouble.
The Grieaux Memorial Cul
tural and Education Center was an impressive source of history and culture, Micah gave it that. He settled in the Grieaux Room and started by studying the family itself. Before long he had to admit that they had, collectively, made incredible contribution to the Mekhajan. The family itself traced its roots back well before the Collective existed as an independent government. Three major families, Sulkhaa, Dacreaux and Grieaux formed the first workable alliance between the local tribes and merchant-pirates willing to trade goods for a safe haven. Micah grinned at the small footnote that reported debate on this issue: some historians attributed the very first alliance to the Maghdirra and Hazhaan families; they claimed the other three came later.
"Fascinating, is it not?"
"Indeed," said Micah to the voice familiar from last night.
The man beside Micah made a double-bow and extended his hand.
"I am Marcel sul'Tishaam, friend."
"Rashi Tipong." Micah double-bowed. "Honor to meet."
"Honor is mine," said sul'Tishaam, "I notice your interest in the Grieaux family and its rich history. I am greatly honored to claim connection. My grandmother claims a small tie to the honorable family of Sulkhaa. I know for truth that my father is very distant kin to Maghdirra."
"A most interesting heritage," grinned Micah, "That makes you kin to the eldest families, no matter whose claim is truth!"
"Words of honey and gold!"
Micah encouraged sul'Tishaam to ramble on. Micah hadn't changed his appearance from last night but the other man certainly had! Although he still looked Esavian he looked different enough to fool a casual eye.
When sul'Tishaam finally started to run down Micah prompted him toward a trade exhibit. He mentioned a story about his great-uncle's son-in-law and his success at trading among the stars. sul'Tishaam didn't react other than to wish profit and happiness upon them all.
"I thought about signing up for a free class," said Kidwell, "Three days. It's 'The Mekhajan First Families of Trade.' What do you think?"
"It sounds interesting," said Micah neutrally, "Can you stay awake for it, dear?"
"Of course!" Kidwell speared Micah with a glare. "It starts the day after tomorrow."
"We're clear," said Ferrel.
As soon as they returned to their small house Kidwell silently motioned Ferrel to perform a surveillance sweep. Puzzled, he complied.
"Polar," said Micah, "Still thinking, Vera?"
She raised him a finger.
"Seriously, hon. It would be a perfect cover for us to spend more time there observing." Despite Ferrel's assurance Micah lowered his voice. "And yes, I am certain about sul'Tishaam. He is six-sigmas certain the man from last night!"
"Coincidence," opined Ferrel, "Some people do live there. It's part of the original grant meant to provide specific learning opportunities..."
"Blather," said Micah, "He deliberately tried to change his appearance. If I wasn't trained I'd have sworn he was a stranger with a similar voice. I can't say for certain he's an agent but what better cover apart from the school? What better place to fit in despite your appearance and to study the Esavians or any other culture? That place warrants further investigation!"
"Oh I concur," said Ferrel, "It shouldn't even be that hard, considering their arrogance. That is my primary argument against his being an agent. Can you imagine how many details Old Sour Stanley would assign us for slipping like that?"
Ferrel lost his grin when Kidwell thumped him hard behind the ear. Then, when he turned, she gave him another one on the forehead.
"That one's for Micah," she said, "Shame on both yourselves! If that's really what you're both thinking inside your microscopic minds then you deserve some details!"
Ferrel's grin returned as a scowl. "Whyfor?! And ouch! That stung if you're interested."
"I'm not," said Kidwell, "I am interested in the Grieaux Center, though, and very much so. Haven't you two duffage-filled doofs figured it out yet?" She rolled her eyes. "It's a candy trap! '... what better cover...' indeed! No blather you're certain about sul'Tishaam, Micah! He wasn't arrogant, Charles, he was deliberate and well-considered."
"He was probing," exclaimed Micah.
"Finally!"
"So you were serious about the bug sweep," said Ferrel.
"Plus-plus! I hope you were too!"
"I was and I'm certain. The only way they're listening to us is with an invisible person inside my garble."
Kidwell sighed in exasperation, then took a calming breath.
"So what's the plan, O superior one," asked Micah.
"First, slap yourself for that. Second, tell me the Fifth Rule of Information."
"'Information equals advantage,'" said Micah, "Especially when you know what your foe doesn't know you know."
"Charlie. So far what you've been researching is bland, yes? I'm thinking in the context of hiding where we're from."
"Bland and boring," said Ferrel, "According to what I've officially queried we could be spies from a dozen different governments."
"Polar. It's time to change that." She thought a moment. "Do you both agree this is a prime opportunity?"
"Yes!" "Plus-plus."
"Tomorrow, Charles, you will slowly and subtly change the direction of your investigation. Micah and I will make nuisances of ourselves around the Grieaux Center. We may even surveil it in disguise. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to our arrogant agents, you will bias yourself toward the Jengiil."
Ferrel nodded. "I shall also, with great touch and finesse, make myself less difficult to trace."
"Micah. Tomorrow you will find a reason to spend a great deal of time at the Vezieri consulate here."
"The..."
"The Vezieri consulate," she repeated. She gave them both a tight smile and a wink. "This is a classic double-braid with a half-twist noodle snap, gentlemen. They will think we're Vezieri trying to look like we're working for the Jengiil or Jengiil trying to appear Vezieri. Or, perhaps, Jengiil trying to be Vezieri trying to look Jengiil. Maybe even an aberrant Tharqi trying to look Vezieri..."
"Stop," interrupted Ferrel, "Jitter squelched. We understand. What if they decide we're League or Semid trying to look otherwise?"
"That is a possibility," she confessed, "but only one out of many! Since they don't know we know they've caught on they have to assume we're genuine, if arrogant or careless. That alone will lend weight to our not being..."
Ferrel placed his hand gently over her mouth. "We understand, Vera."
***
"How may I help you, friend," asked the Vezieri receptionist with a nice smile, if not a deep one.
"I wish to study trends in the stocks of certain of your companies for the past five years," said Micah with a double-bow, "Our records do not extend that far. The information is public and not secret."
"I see," said the lady, "We do not have that information ready to hand. It would have to be taken from our archives. That requires considerable work."
"Yes, yes. I understand." Micah double-bowed again. "If you will permit me I shall gladly undertake the task. My father's second cousin traded profitably with Vezieri Mercantile for many years, may profit fall upon them, and I wish to continue his legacy."
The lady smiled with artificial patience. "Perhaps that can be arranged. I'll ask for a pass to the public archives. What you want may be there."
Thank you!" Micah bowed low this time. "Peace and profit be upon you and all of yours."
Micah dug deep into his research. At irregular intervals friendly attendants offered assistance and a few times Micah accepted it. Micah gave his task three hours with an extra twenty minutes to clean up details. He thanked the attendants and the receptionist profusely, wished peace and profit on everyone he passed and departed with many smiles and thanks.
***
"Well done, my scholarly lover," said Kidwell.
The two of them sat at the Grieaux Center restaurant. The tea wasn't bad but the prices were!
"Anything nice to say?"
"I
estimate between six and ten faux Esavians. I saw about twenty today but never more than six at a time and I know some of them recycled."
"Pious question: are they trying to pique our interest or letting us know they know we know?"
"Don't try it dear. I'm better at it than you are and I like it. The way I have things worked it really isn't relevant. If they are trying to tell us they know we know that means they're trying to flush us."
"Not good!"
"Not catastrophic, either. They're trying to track us back to our handlers and that opens up all sorts of new possibilities. Are you done here or do we need to order food?"
Back at their house Ferrel twitched with barely-contained excitement. Before they could ask he opened a newsmod to the personals and showed them an ad.
"Ted arrived today! He didn't send contact information yet but he and the others are insystem! That means we're six-sigmas solid for certain sure! We can... do things now!"
"We can tweak their noses," said Kidwell, "Prepare your messages, gentlemen. We'll send them tonight and make plans for tomorrow. I'm also putting us signal down so make sure you don't need any replies."
Micah composed and summarized his reports with half his brain. Elements and possibilities jostled around the other half. He moved, fitted and rearranged until he had the pieces exactly where he needed them. Before long he had a solid course of action with contingencies and alternatives in place.
"I like it," said Kidwell with Ferrel nodding agreement, "It's sneaky, misleading and brash."
"Not words I'd use," said Micah, "I'd say something like 'a message as direct as a punch in the nose.'"
Kidwell waved her hand dismissively. "Of course you would, dear. With Katie and Dave here too we can send a message an Esavian would understand."
***
The next day Kidwell lingered at the Grieaux Center well after her class dismissed. Micah joined her just before sundown and Ferrel not long after. Micah noticed Ionoski already there when he arrived but neither acknowledged the other. A few minutes after Ferrel arrived Ionoski left. Success! He'd spotted their shadows and had sufficient images and details to identify them to Siffai and Barstein.
The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 21