And then, mercifully, it was over, ending with an abruptness that left her dizzy, mind still reeling in non-space. The capsule slowed, bumping to a stop, and Heikki forced herself to move, feeling in the darkness for the raised letters that marked the emergency release. There was less time on arrival; the loaders would appear all too quickly…. She found it at last, and slammed her palm against the release button. The lid did not budge, and she hit it again, harder, bruising the heel of her hand painfully, her breath catching in a gasp that was almost a sob. This time, the release worked, and the lid rose majestically, letting in the dim light of the cargo platform on EP7.
Even that seemed bright, after the cave-like darkness of the capsule. Heikki blinked away tears, and pushed herself up onto her knees, forcing herself to hurry. “Come on, damn it,” she said, as much to herself as to Galler. “Come on.”
Galler groaned, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, both hands at his temples. Heikki swore, and reached for him, but he batted her hand away, and slid out of the capsule on his own. He reached back for his lapscreen, slinging it shakily over his shoulder, and said, “I don’t think much of your cheap flights, Gwynne.”
Heikki, hauling at the bolts they had pushed aside, did not bother to answer. Light flared above them then, flooding the platform with a hard blue glare.
“Leave that,” Galler said, with sudden urgency. “The loaders are coming.”
“I know,” Heikki snarled, and slammed the capsule shut. She could see, at the far end of the platform, the red-painted door that was the emergency exit to the passenger platform. She pointed to it with one hand, the other fumbling in her pocket for the seal she had removed from the lock. “Get going, go on.”
“But—” Galler bit off whatever protest he had been about to make, and started for the emergency exit at a trot.
Heikki slapped the seal back into place, and drew out the molecular probe again, frantically twisting the dial until she had the setting she wanted. She slid the probe back into the hole she’d originally made, and triggered the button. In the background, she thought she could hear the snarl of a robo-pallet’s power plant, but dismissed it as imagination. Light flared, and the stasis field vanished, the seal resuming its original spongy composition. She withdrew the probe with hurried care, certain now that she heard pallets approaching, and sprinted for the emergency exit. I hope to hell Sten was right and the lock’s been jinxed already, she thought, and knew it was entirely too late to be worrying about that. Galler was at the door already, beckoning wildly. Behind her, Heikki heard the thudding as the first hatch was opened, and then she was at the emergency door. She slapped the release bar hard, no longer caring if she triggered all the alarms on the station, and saw Galler gaping at her, mouth and eyes wide as if in protest. The door swung outward easily, without alarm or even the shriek of hinges, and Heikki barely managed to catch it before it swung too far. And then they were through, staring at the crowd streaming out of the passenger capsules toward the main exit. Heikki closed the emergency exit gently behind them, hardly able to believe she was here and safe, and saw the same disbelief on Galler’s face.
“We made it,” he said, foolishly, and Heikki could not stop herself from laughing.
“We made it,” she agreed, and started toward the main exit, walking like a woman in a dream.
CHAPTER 10
They passed through Customs’ usual cursory check without difficulty, without even attracting the full attention of the young man on duty at the residents’ gate. After the struggle to get off EP4, Heikki found it hard to muster the strength for fear, and could see from Galler’s face that he was feeling equally numb. The sights and sounds of the main concourse roused her a little, let her shake off the lethargy that had closed around her, and she caught at her brother’s arm to hold him back from the jitney line.
“Let me call Santerese first,” she said.
“You’re expecting trouble?” Galler asked, and Heikki shook her head.
“No, but there’s no harm in being careful.” She hesitated, but could not resist adding, “You stirred up enough trouble on EP4; it may have spread by now.”
Galler made a face, and did not deny it. Heikki left him slumped on a bench in the orbit of one of the concourse’s grand mobiles, staring at the intricate exposed clockworks that sent tuned spheres bouncing through a maze of nuglass and chiming crystal, and went in search of a public combox.
She found an empty one at last, half a level below the main concourse, on the mezzanine overlooking the floater platforms. She settled herself in the booth, latching the door behind her, and fed her personal card into the machine. The system considered it for a moment, matching numbers and credits, and flashed a clear screen. Heikki punched in the callcodes, and waited.
It took a few minutes for Santerese to respond to the summons—an unusually long time, Heikki thought, and sat up straighter on the hard bench, frowning at the screen. Then the picture cleared, and Santerese’s broad face looked out at her.
“Heikki.” There was something in her tone that was not quite right, and Heikki’s frown deepened.
” ‘Shallin. I’m back, with what I went for.” The evasion came out smoothly, almost without thought. “How’re things at home?”
“All right.” Again, there was an unfamiliar note in Santerese’s voice, a hesitation that was not normally there, almost, Heikki thought, as though she were choosing her words for an offscreen listener. “I’m glad you were successful, doll. We’ve had—a bit of a time here.”
“What do you mean?”
Santerese grinned, but it was a shadow of her usual smile. “I told you there were questions about our working methods? Well, the investigation is official now— nothing’s showed up, nor is it likely to, but it’s been expensive, and a hassle. I’m glad you’re back.”
“So am I,” Heikki said. The story was plausible enough, and would certainly account for Santerese’s harried look, but…. They had set up codes, check phrases, long ago, the first time they had worked apart on a politically restless planet; over the years, the system had come in handy more than once. “What does that do to the Morgan job?”
There was a moment’s pause before Santerese answered. “I thought we could hand it over to Penninzer, if worst comes to worse.”
That was the countersign, the signal that everything was all right. Heikki relaxed, and said, “Good enough. But I hope we won’t have to.”
“Me, too,” Santerese answered. “Are you coming straight here?”
Heikki nodded.
“Take a jitney,” Santerese said, with a ghost of her usual manner. “This is no time for you to be cheap, Heikki.”
“I’ll do that,” Heikki said, relieved, and broke the connection. The screen faded to neutral gray, waiting for her next command, but Heikki sat still for a moment longer, staring past the screen at the floater platforms half a level below. Even as she watched, one of the bubbles rose past her, carried on the invisible beam, its riders distorted shapes against the transluscent plastic. She fixed her eyes on it as it rose out of sight, then waited until it began its leisurely descent toward the receiving station on the far side of the station’s open central volume. It was not like Santerese to be so quiet, not like her to worry—in fact, Heikki thought, it would be more like her to be fighting back, with suit and countersuit. Something simply wasn’t right. Heikki shook herself then, annoyed with her own imaginings. She had asked the code question, and Santerese had answered: nothing could be wrong. No one else knew their system, not even Djuro. Nothing was wrong.
A prompt question had been flashing on the screen for some time now, Heikki realized suddenly. She touched the keys that closed down the system and retrieved her card, and then levered herself out of the narrow box. Nothing is wrong, she told herself again, but caught herself looking over her shoulder more than once as she returned to the concourse where she had left Galler.
“What kept you?” Galler looked up from his lapscreen, scowl
ing irritably.
“It took me a while to find an empty box,” Heikki answered. “Come on, will you?”
Galler’s eyebrow rose in a mocking question, and
Heikki glared at him, daring him to speak. After a moment, it was Galler who looked away. Heikki allowed herself a grim smile, and took her place in the line of people waiting for jitneys.
Most of the crowd from their train had already found transport, and it wasn’t long before a jitney pulled up to the platform. Heikki fed it her cashcard, wondering morosely just how much this rescue was going to cost her before it was over, and gave the machine her address. The canopy sprang up instantly, and Heikki climbed in. Galler followed, tugging the canopy closed behind him, and the machine slid smoothly away from the platform.
EP7 had only one major connector, a massive corridor known as the Artery that ran along the central spine of the station. The jitney swung wide around the open volume at the center of Pod One, then turned onto a spiral ramp that carried it up and into the traffic of the Artery. It was not crowded at this time of the Exchange Point’s day, and the mix of traffic, mass carriers on the lower levels, private vehicles, jitneys, and the like in the upper lanes, was moving almost at the permitted maximum. Heikki’s mood lifted a little, seeing that: not long, she thought, not long at all until we’re home and we can finally start fighting back.
The jitney deposited them at the top of the stairwell that led down into Pod Nineteen. Heikki stopped at the security booth to identify Galler to the bored-looking securitron, then led the way past the lowered barriers and down the spiralling stairs to the suite of rooms that was both office and flat. As she stepped off the stairway, she noticed that the heavy curtains had been drawn across the narrow window. Stepping closer, she saw that the red bar was lit above the concierge plate: Business closed.
“I would’ve thought your partner would be working today,” Galler said, at her shoulder.
Heikki shrugged. “Things happen.” She turned toward the alleyway that led to the private entrances, and Galler caught her shoulder.
“This isn’t right, Gwynne. There could be something wrong.”
Heikki made a face, debating whether she should tell him, then shrugged. “Ever since we stopped working for Lo-Moth, people have been asking questions about our past methods. The Marshallin says we’re under investigation. That’s why we’re closed.”
“Damn.” It was unlike Galler, ‘pointer to the bone, to swear, and Heikki stopped to look at him, startled. He gestured apology. “I’m sorry. But if they’ve started to investigate you—what is it, illegal procedures, things like that?”
Heikki nodded.
“Then I don’t see how you can help me,” Galler said. “I need supporters who are above reproach.”
Heikki took a deep breath, and caught her brother’s shoulder, spinning him back to face her. “Get one thing straight, little brother. I am above reproach. We are professionals, we do not break laws, and we don’t cut corners. The Licensing Board, or even the cops, can investigate until doomsday, and they won’t find anything that isn’t faked—obviously faked. Is that clear?”
Galler nodded, but did not look particularly convinced. Heikki turned away, angry with herself for losing her temper, and unlocked the grill that barred the private entrances. The door to the flat opened before she could lay her hand against the lock, and Santerese beckoned her in.
“I heard you yelling outside,” she said, with a shadow of her normal smile.
“I’m sorry, Marshallin,” Heikki said, and stepped into the familiar room, Galler at her shoulder. A drinks tray was resting on the side table, two filled glasses waiting. A third stood half-empty on the monitor console, and a fourth—also half-empty—on the sideboard beside the door to the workroom. Heikki’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything, an enormous figure poked its head out of the doorway. If he had been a little smaller, and darker, he could have been Nkosi’s twin; as it was, he bore an uncomfortable resemblance to one of the shaggier terrestrial bears. He looked like a clown, Heikki thought, torn between laughter and shrieking fury, and drew breath to say something she would certainly regret. Before she could speak, however, the big man said cheerfully, “Good to see you, Heikki. And you, ser, must be the lady’s all too elusive brother.” His tone changed abruptly. “You are Galler Heikki?”
Galler hesitated, and Heikki said, flatly, “Yes, this is Galler.” She looked at her brother. “And this is Idris Max, who last time I knew him was with the Transit Police.”
“Oh, I’ve been promoted since then,” Max said genially. He always had been impervious to insult, Heikki remembered. She looked at Santerese.
“I thought you told me everything was all right.”
“As far as I knew, it was.” Santerese looked at Max. “Unless you’ve changed your plans?”
Max smiled. “Not at all. But there is a query out for him.”
“Which is not the same thing as an advice of arrest,” Galler murmured, just loudly enough to be heard.
“Very true,” Max said. “However, I am obliged to ask you a few questions.”
Heikki looked again at Santerese. “Marshallin, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Santerese made a face. “Doll, I wish I knew. When I got word that a formal investigation was being launched, I put Malachy on the legal aspects, and—since I had to admit you were probably right about Lo-Moth screwing us on this one—I started to work on the tapes you sent me. I also got back in touch with your ex-boyfriend here.” She nodded to Max, who bowed.
“He never was,” Heikki said.
Santerese grinned. “Whatever you say, doll. Anyway, I figured if anybody had the connections we needed, it would be him. So here he is, and here you are.”
“What did you find on the tapes?” Heikki asked.
“Now that,” Max interrupted, “was the most interesting thing about all of this mess.” He lumbered over to the drinks tray, and scooped up one of the glasses. He passed it to Heikki, who stared for an instant in fascination at the delicate goblet clutched in the enormous paw before accepting it.
“It’s that bad?” she said aloud.
“The crystal matrix was destroyed at the wreck site,” Santerese said.
Heikki swore, and did not bother to apologize. That was, in her opinion, the least likely of all the possible results—but on the other hand, if Galler was right, if Lo-Moth’s new matrix wasn’t new at all, but was derived from the same research that had produced the flawed crystal that had destroyed EP1. . What else could the pirates do with it? It couldn’t be sold, and it certainly couldn’t be kept—and the pirates couldn’t’ve been the usual run of hired thugs, she realized abruptly. They had to be company men, trusted men, because otherwise there would be too many opportunities for blackmail….
“This is making sense to you,” Max said, and the buffoonery was gone from his voice. “Give.”
Heikki took a deep breath, marshalling her thoughts, but before she could say anything, Galler spoke. “Wait a minute, Gwynne.” His voice was brittle, amused. “Before you start talking to the—authorities—I think there are a couple of questions you should be asking.”
“Ask away,” Max said.
“First, what’s the status of this investigation of yours?” Galler glanced at Heikki. “You see, I’m not entirely selfish. And what’s my status—ser?”
“Commissioner,” Max said affably. Heikki lifted an eyebrow. The change in title represented a considerable promotion since the last time she had seen Max. “The investigation is proceeding—though right now I’m more interested in why we were put on the job than in the trumped-up Violations’ we’ve been shown.” He smiled at Heikki. “Not at all your style, Heikki.” He looked back at Galler. “As for you, ser…. As they say, that depends in large part on how you choose to answer my questions.”
“I see.” Galler managed a wry smile, and reached for the last drink left on the tray.
Max seated himself on
the largest of the chairs and leaned back, still smiling benignly. “Now, as I said, this all seems to make sense to you two. Why don’t you explain it all to me?”
Heikki looked at her brother, unable to keep an unholy joy from her face. “Galler knows so much more,” she said sweetly. “I think he’d better explain this one.”
It took perhaps half an hour for Galler to outline what he had found in Tremoth’s files and Slade’s reaction to his discoveries. When he had finished, Heikki spoke, explaining her contract with Lo-Moth and the work she had done on Iadara. Max sat quietly through it all, eyes hooded, leaning back comfortably as though he were listening to children’s tales. When they had both finished, he sat quietly for a moment, staring at nothing then shook himself, looking up with an abstracted smile.
“So sorry, but I was just thinking, this might explain a couple of bodies that turned up one one of the lower levels of EP10 last week—Tremoth employees who’d broken their contracts and gone underground. Or so their bosses said, even though the grieving widows claimed they were company men to the last molecule.”
“The hijack crew?” Heikki said.
“By coincidence, they were last seen on Iadara,” Max said. “Oceanic survey work, officially.”
Definitely the hijackers, Heikki thought, but said nothing. Iadara’s oceans were effectively useless for any of Lo-Moth’s products; they weren’t even terribly useful as a food supply. She shook the memory away, and said to Max, “So now what?”
Max shook his head. “You tell me. It might interest you to know, by the way, that Slade’s been giving money to Retroceder politicians and action groups.”
“I thought he was a Retroceder,” Heikki said, and Galler made a little noise of satisfaction. Max pointed a finger at him. “You claimed you had information from Tremoth’s files. Where is it?”
Galler made a face. “It was in my office, in the reader there.” Max raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief, and Galler said, stung, “Well, in my experience, no one ever looks at the tapes in the reader, they search the files and the strongbox and all that. It was the safest place I could think of on short notice. I was planning to recover them, anyway, take them back to my pied-a-terre, but things moved a little faster than I was expecting. I set things up so that Gwynne—”
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