“I’ve already seen this,” Jake whispered. This was getting old. What did he care if Quark was cheating? His father would have cared, but his father was too busy to notice. Besides, it wasn’t as important as keeping the station running.
Nothing was.
Nog shoved the device in the pocket of his sweater and started to work on the panel leading into the service portal.
“I’m not going back in there,” Jake said. “We almost got caught yesterday.”
Nog just kept working. “You’re not going in. I just need you to stand guard.”
“For what?”
Nog handed the device to Jake. “I’m going to get a reading on those sensors over the room.”
“Why?” Jake asked. The device was warm. It fit his hand. Most human-made equipment was too big for his hands, even after his last growth spurt.
Nog laughed. “So we can track the signals. It has to be a type of signal that wouldn’t interfere with the rest of the operation of the station. So it should be easy to track to its source.”
Interfere with the operation of the station? Jake frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“This device.” Nog took it from Jake’s hand. “It scans the signals the sensors are giving out. Someone has to monitor the sensors that are in that ceiling. They have to be in a separate room.”
“You mean those sensors are sending signals all over the station?”
Nog pulled off the hatch and crawled in. “I would wager. And that’s what I’m going to find out.” He looked at Jake. “Don’t just stand there. Close the hatch behind me, but not tight. I’ll knock when I get back and you open it when no one is in sight. If there’s a problem, lean against it until the problem leaves. Got it?”
“What if we get caught?”
“You’re in charge of making sure we don’t.”
Nog disappeared down the service tunnel. Jake looked around and closed the hatch, leaving it open just a crack. Then he walked over to the railing and looked down.
The Klingon women were leaving Garak’s clothing store. They looked angry. Klingons always looked angry. No, fierce. They always looked fierce.
A blond human woman, wearing a very thin gown and carrying a fuzzy creature—a tribble?—was walking into Quark’s. Jake ran to the stairs to see if he could get a better look, but the woman was lost in the gathering crowd. The faint scent of roses mingled with the smoke.
He glanced at the portal. No Nog.
Jake hurried back to his post. If Quark was sending signals across the station, using a Ferengi device, could it interrupt regular operations? Maybe he could solve the mystery of the station blackouts and stop the cheating all at once.
And maybe lose a friend.
He sighed. He would have to talk to Nog about it.
Keiko O’Brien walked by, her steps precise and familiar. Jake pushed against the wall. He didn’t want her to see him. He glanced at his watch. He had thought, with all the problems, that school would be canceled, but no one had told him that. Obviously he was wrong. The teacher was on her way to class now.
A Vulcan walked around her and disappeared into Quark’s. Jake waited until Mrs. O’Brien was out of view before peering over the railing into the bar. It looked empty, yet a lot of beings had disappeared into it just since he started watching.
How many people had Quark invited? How important was this thing, anyway?
Important enough that Quark spent hard-earned money on all the equipment in that ceiling.
The lights flickered. Jake shot a glance at the portal. He would hate to get caught in there if the lights went out. He hoped Nog was okay.
The lights stayed on, and Jake let out his breath in relief.
Odo came out of his office, stopped and talked to two of his assistants before heading into Quark’s. If anything was wrong, Odo would find it. Maybe then Jake would be off the hook.
He started pacing in front of the hatch. What was taking Nog so long? They had school. They would get caught. Cheers and applause rose from Quark’s—very faint cheers and applause. Something was happening. Come on, Nog.
The lights flickered again and Jake braced himself, but nothing happened. The odd shaking that rocked the station hadn’t happened for a while. Jake didn’t want it to happen again. He stared at the lights overhead, willing them to stay on.
They did.
And Nog wasn’t back yet. Jake couldn’t leave Nog there. But he didn’t want to go in after him. Who knew what happened inside the service hatch when the lights flickered? What if something blew? What if those sensors sent out some weird signal that hurt Nog?
Just when Jake was about to pull open the hatch and go in himself, he heard three faint knocks. He looked both ways. He was alone on the second level. He pulled the hatch open and Nog rolled out, landing on his feet, and grinning.
“What took you so long?” Jake said.
Nog put a finger in front of his mouth. “The sensors are up and working. Really well too.”
“How could you tell?”
Nog patted his pocket. The device stuck out of it. “My uncle must be making a lot of money. That room is packed.” Nog pulled the device out of his pocket. Its screen glowed red. “Follow me.”
“Where?”
Nog laughed. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”
He held the device out in front of him as he walked. toward the Promenade railing.
“Someone’s going to see that,” Jake said.
“Who cares?” Nog said. “They won’t know what I’m doing.”
Butterflies rose in Jake’s stomach. Someone would know. Nog led them down the stairs. He clutched the device closer to his chest.
Jake followed, close at Nog’s side. “Where’d you get that thing, anyway?”
“It’s my dad’s,” Nog said. “He uses it sometimes when he’s trying to find out what my uncle is doing.”
“Wouldn’t he want it now?”
“Nope. He’s in on this one.”
A scruffy group of humans with shaved heads and wearing hand-torn clothing hurried into Quark’s. Nog walked away from the bar, ignoring the people he passed. The device started beeping. He shut it off and put it in his pocket.
“Here,” he said.
“What?” Jake asked. He looked around. They were standing beside a wall in the Promenade. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Nog, is this a joke? Because if it is, I don’t like it. Mrs. O’Brien went by and we’re going to be late for school—”
“Sometimes you’re no fun at all.” Nog frowned. “Besides, it’s right here.”
He put his hand on a door with the Cardassian symbol for supplies on it. Across that Quark had put a sticker that said Quark’s in four different languages.
“Those sensors are sending signals here?” Jake asked.
Nog nodded and grinned, obviously glad he had recaptured Jake’s interest. “There are screens inside that show all the tables in my uncle’s back room. The monitors can see all the cards. They must have another system set up to let my uncle’s players know who has got what in their hand.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know. Isn’t it great? They’re going to make a lot of money.”
Jake sighed. Technology. And all those Ferengi sensors sending signals around. No wonder things were going wrong. “Before we go to school, let’s stop in Ops and tell my dad. He’ll want to know—”
“About cheating in Quark’s? Come on, your dad doesn’t want to be bothered. He’s got enough to worry about. Besides, I don’t want to tell anyone.” Nog stopped talking as two members of the crew walked by, deep in conversation.
Jake watched them. He didn’t recognize either of them. Both ensigns, both wearing engineering colors. Everyone seemed preoccupied this morning. “We’ve got to tell somebody,” Jake said when they passed.
“No, we don’t,” Nog said. He leaned close to Jake so that Jake could hear him. “My uncle always says information is power. Now we have
information on my uncle. We just have to figure out how to use it.” He cackled. “Come on. Let’s go to school.”
Jake glanced at the door. A thin light did come from underneath it. He hated it when Nog got like this. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe there were fundamental differences between Ferengi and humans.
Or maybe not.
CHAPTER 13
ODO WALKED INTO QUARK’S. Already the sound was deafening. Conversation rumbled from the back room. The bar was hot too. The environmental controls were probably out here as well as in Odo’s office.
He sighed. He did not want to be here. The game that Quark and the computer had taught him the night before was boring and simple, and Odo didn’t understand the attraction in wagering large amounts of money on things that had a great probability of not happening.
Rom was sitting at a table near the door, talking with the Bajoran, Pera. Pera was an interesting case. Odo had spent quite a bit of time studying his file. Pera had had a legitimate job with the Bajoran Provisional Government for one month. Then he had walked away, claiming that the government did not serve Bajoran interests. His background prior to that incident had been an intermittent commitment with the Bajoran Freedom Fighters. Pera would disappear for months, often returning after a Cardassian leader died in a spectacular manner. The Bajoran files were sketchy. The Cardassian files claimed Pera had worked for every terrorist group in Bajor. One of those groups was tied to the Romulans, and the last intermediary the group had used had been Naralak.
Naralak’s murder would explain Pera’s presence here. Most terrorists didn’t have time for poker matches.
“Are you going to stare at us or get your chips?” Rom asked.
Odo picked up his chips as he noted the arrivals with the corner of his eye. A Vulcan he had never seen before. Cynthia Jones, flirting with Dr. Bashir. Xator and Grouk, the Klingons, who were still his primary suspects. Garak. Lursa and B’Etor. More Klingons. Any one of them could be the mysterious L’sthwan.
“Don’t you want to count them?” Rom asked.
Odo shook his head. “It’s not my money. Why should I?”
He turned and found himself face-to-face with the tall, skinny human from the past. Berlinghoff Rasmussen had a history of cons, with much time spent on Federation penal colonies, but no history of murder. “Not your money?” Rasmussen asked.
“Quark has asked me to sit in on the game,” Odo said, “to make sure all of your worthless lives continue long enough for him to make a profit.”
Rasmussen frowned. “Doesn’t seem like Quark’s profit would be of interest to you.”
“It’s not,” Odo said. “But keeping my eye on this collection of thieves and murderers is. There is a lot of money here, Mr. Rasmussen. I will be watching your hands very closely.”
“I always keep my cards close to the chest,” Rasmussen said.
“I was referring to your real hands. I couldn’t care less what you do with your cards.” Odo nodded to Rasmussen, and then went into the room.
He glanced at his name on the chart, just as Quark had told him to do. Odo would be sitting close to the door. Good thinking, Quark. The better to observe what was going on.
Right now the other players were looking at their seat assignments and finding their places to sit. Odo sighed. It was time to get to business. He had already been in and out of the room several times, trying to find another way to deal with the murder. He still couldn’t come up with a better plan. Perhaps it was fortunate that the game was so easy. It would give him more time to concentrate on the other players.
A familiar laugh from the back of the room made Odo stop. Doctor Bashir was talking with a Vulcan. Both had chips in front of them. Dr. Bashir looked out of place in a black tux. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed, as if he had spent a few hours alone in the holosuite. Odo recognized the look. Bashir wanted to be a part of all of this.
Odo hurried across the room, not caring who he bumped. The Irits, whose name he could not pronounce, nearly dropped its chips. He did not stop to help.
He tapped Doctor Bashir on the shoulder. “Doctor, a word please?”
“Odo!” Bashir said, the pleasure evident in his voice. Really, the boy was too naive. Quark must have seen the entry fee and nothing else. “Are you planning to play?”
“Yes, but I would like to speak with you beforehand.”
“It’s really not done,” Bashir said.
“About the murder,” Odo said, keeping his voice level. “Let’s go to the Promenade.”
“I am not going to leave my chips,” Doctor Bashir said. He touched the Vulcan’s arm. “No offense meant.”
“None taken,” the Vulcan said. “The crowd here is disreputable.”
“Quite,” Bashir said.
Odo rolled his eyes. He was glad he wasn’t sitting at this table. The dullest conversationalists of the bunch. “Please, Doctor.”
Bashir stacked his chips and stood. He led Odo a few feet away from the table, all the time studying the chips. “I have no other news to give you,” Bashir said softly. “The lab reports showed nothing out of the ordinary. The fibers match others we found in the room, and Quark’s sweater, of course. The DNA scan revealed nothing. We can only be certain that she died of the knife wound, and death was very quick. Whoever killed her had a knowledge of Romulan anatomy.”
“Klingon?”
“I doubt it,” Bashir said. “Klingons have honor. They don’t usually stab someone in the dark,”
“Another Romulan?”
“Possible,” Bashir said. “But why here? Why now? And why use a Ferengi knife? I ran some tests on that knife before giving it to your people. It was clean in all ways, except for a bit of chilled grub worm that got into the wound itself. That would suggest to me that the killer had taken the knife from a dinner table and then used it later. There were no prints on the handle.”
“Yes, we found that too,” Odo said. “Bits of chilled grub worm in the wound. You didn’t tell me that before.”
“That was the unidentifiable substance I had mentioned last night. It’s in my report. I don’t suppose you had time to read it.”
“Not hardly.” Odo had spent too much time with Quark, learning this silly game, and interviewing what suspects he had. Then he spent even more time going over the site with every bit of equipment he had. The oddest thing, and the one he had told no one about, were the strange signals he got, as if someone were monitoring the room. Because of the engineering troubles on the station, he wasn’t sure his readings were accurate. He would double-check them later.
The Vulcan brushed Bashir’s chips. Bashir took a step forward, then stopped when he realized that the chip piles were undisturbed. “Is that all, Odo? I really must get back.”
“No,” Odo said. “I want you to keep an eye out for anything unusual. I don’t like having a killer loose on my station.”
Bashir smiled at him. Odo took a step back. He had not expected that response.
“Knowing gamblers,” Bashir said, “I would be surprised if there was only one.”
CHAPTER 14
THE WALK WAS much too far. The Grand Nagus Zek leaned on his staff and moved as quickly as his wobbly legs would carry him. He had been winded when they reached the turbolift, but now that they were in a hallway leading to the living quarters, he was just plain tired. Still, he could make the walk there and back alone. He was old, but he was not weak. It would do Krax well to remember that.
Krax took the Nagus’s arm, but the Nagus shook his son off. Maihar’du, his servant, followed at a close distance, ever ready to assist the Nagus or defend him.
“This is much too far!” the Nagus said. “The game will start without me.”
“Quark would not dare start without you,” Krax said.
If the Nagus wasn’t in such a hurry, he would have boxed Krax’s ears. “Quark will do whatever he can,” the Nagus said. “He was not too happy about fronting me money to play in the game.”
“Especially since we managed to save most of our gold-pressed latinum.” Krax giggled. “You are brilliant, Father.”
“You should have realized that by now,” the Nagus said. “Will the equipment work this far away?”
“Trust me, Father. The setup is perfect.”
The Nagus cackled. “Trust you? I’m not that old. Now quit babbling and show me.”
“We should have come earlier this morning, Father, when we had time.”
The Nagus gripped his staff tighter. One more comment like that and he would box Krax’s ears with the staff, here, in the corridor. “I want to see how it works when there are people in the room. You cannot leave these things to chance, Krax.”
“Yes, Father,” Krax said.
He stopped in front of a door that looked like any other through the ring. He pressed the lock on the side and the door slid open, revealing a Ferengi screen made of black cloth and decorated with Ferengi heads that matched the one on the staff. The heads were sewn in gold thread.
The Nagus glanced at Maihar’du. His tall, thin humanoid servant had no trouble looking over the screen. “Good work, Krax,” the Nagus said. “You have only prevented Ferengi from seeing inside.”
Krax was looking at Maihar’du in dismay. “I will fix that, Father.”
“See that you do,” the Nagus said. He pushed around the screen. The main room of the living quarters was oblong with a large eye-shaped window that opened to the stars. It was not as nice as the one he had stolen from Quark—Quark’s quarters this visit, not Rom’s—but it still fit ten Ferengi comfortably.
Each Ferengi worked on a makeshift table, staring at small monitors before them. Headsets were pinched to their right lobes and a small implanted microphone behind a gauze privacy screen covered their mouths. The old-fashioned technology worked better in an operation like this, so that the many voices speaking in a room were filtered out. The recipient heard only the voice he was supposed to hear.
The Nagus walked around the first table. The monitor was small—Krax must have borrowed Federation equipment—but it worked. He could see the layout of the first table in Quark’s back room perfectly—the green felt surface, the chips littering each place, and the arms and hands of the players. Those who had fingers were playing with chips or tapping nervously on the table’s edge. The dealer had placed an unopened deck of cards in front of her place. Each ridge of the design on the back of the deck was visible. Each whirl of ink. Even if the players turned the cards at an angle and held them to their chest, the sensor up above would be able to read them.
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