Technically, Flint was right. He was a private citizen. He was also a member of the Earth Alliance. He could talk with the investigators, and neither she nor Popova could stop him.
No matter how much they wanted to.
The meal DeRicci had eaten turned into a lump in her stomach.
He was going to talk with them about the clones. She had no idea why that upset him so. Of course the investigations had different branches. Of course some aspects of the investigation were confidential.
He used to work for the police. He knew that.
She had no idea why he had expected anything else.
Has he met with them? DeRicci sent.
He’s meeting with them now, Popova sent. You want me to break it up?
I want you to join them, DeRicci sent. I want to know exactly what’s going on.
He’s not going to like that, Popova sent.
DeRicci finally had enough. She didn’t care what Miles Flint did or didn’t like. He didn’t work for her, but she didn’t work for him, either. And she wasn’t his partner any longer.
I really don’t give a damn, DeRicci sent. He’s in my office. He does things my way or he leaves.
She didn’t get an immediate response from Popova, and for a moment, DeRicci thought the link had been severed.
Am I authorized to say that? Popova sent.
You are, DeRicci sent.
Again, that moment of silence. Then Popova sent, He contacted you earlier, right?
Yes, DeRicci sent.
Did something go wrong in that conversation?
DeRicci closed her eyes. She had no idea how to answer that. Did something go wrong? Not until Flint confessed he was working with Luc Deshin. Or maybe not even until Flint severed their link.
I didn’t think so, DeRicci sent, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. She hadn’t thought so until Flint overreacted. But it seems that he does.
You want me to get to the bottom of it? Popova sent.
No, DeRicci sent. Just listen in on their conversation. I’ll take care of it when I get back.
Whatever “it” was. Whatever needed taking care of. She would do it, like she’d been doing everything else these past few months.
Somehow, she would do it all.
Twenty-five
Zagrando piloted H’Jith’s space yacht away from Hellhole, moving slowly so as not to attract suspicion. H’Jith stood inside a clear prison made of bars of light, shuddering uncontrollably. Apparently, H’Jith didn’t mind toying with others, but hated to be toyed with itself.
Zagrando ignored H’Jith until he was certain no one had followed him. No one had sent distress messages, no one had tried to contact the ship. He set the coordinates for the resort he had found, then sat in the pilot’s chair.
“Here’s what I want,” Zagrando said. “When we get to our destination, I want you to buy me a ship. Then I will leave, and you are free to go home.”
“I can’t pilot anything,” H’Jith wailed.
Zagrando shrugged. “Hire someone.”
H’Jith was silent for a moment. Then it tilted its head. Its tail twitched just slightly. That lovely tell. Apparently it was involuntary.
“You will have to set me free when we arrive,” H’Jith said. “I must be able to see the ships to act as broker.”
Zagrando sighed. “I am really tired of the way you lie, H’Jith. Is that something all J’Slik do? Or is that simply the way J’Slik criminals behave?”
“I am not a criminal,” H’Jith said sullenly.
“That’s right, you’re not,” Zagrando said. “You’re a ship broker. And as such, you have other people buy ships for you, which you then resell. So I’m now one of your suppliers. You’re going to give me your account information so that I can buy my next ship.”
“No,” H’Jith said.
Zagrando reached across the console, tapped the miniprison controls and moved the bars just a little closer. H’Jith watched them move and tried, in vain, to make its body smaller.
“I’m sorry,” Zagrando said. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Please,” H’Jith said. “Just let me go.”
“I already told you that I would let you go after you’ve helped me,” Zagrando said, keeping his fingers poised over the prison controls. “I also know you have dozens of accounts. Someone like you would have to. So make sure I have one of your fattest accounts. I don’t need the others. When we arrive, I’ll go out, buy a new ship, and then set you free. You can find your pilot and your way home.”
“You won’t do that,” H’Jith said. “You’ll let me die in here.”
Zagrando made a face.
“I’m not that kind of man,” he said, although he really needed to portray that kind of man in his role as an arms broker. He was failing the ruthlessness test all over this part of the sector. “But if I were, you’d still be all right. Someone would find you. I’m sure there are ship brokers at every port, and I’m sure they all would love to take on a ship like this. They’ll break in eventually. They’ll take the ship, and then they’ll find you.”
“It could take weeks,” H’Jith said, voice trembling.
“Ah,” Zagrando said. “Really? Hmmm. That would be too bad. I would think, then, it would be better to work with me on this.”
“I’ve never met a human like you,” H’Jith said.
“Yeah,” Zagrando said, wiggling his fingers, but careful to keep them away from the controls. “Apparently, you’ve only met victims.”
H’Jith shifted just a little. It was clearly getting uncomfortable.
“I have not victimized anyone,” it said.
“I’m sure they all volunteered for your special brand of commerce,” Zagrando said.
“They did,” H’Jith said. “They were in such a hurry—”
“That they allowed themselves to be victimized,” Zagrando said in an even voice.
H’Jith blinked at him, clearly confused by Zagrando’s tone.
“I didn’t hurt them,” H’Jith said after a moment.
“Keep believing that,” Zagrando said. “The more you deny it, the more I’m thinking I’m going to just use this ship to continue on my way.”
“Everyone would know it was stolen,” H’Jith said.
“I’m sure it is.” Zagrando leaned forward and pretended to study the controls. Then he looked over at H’Jith with a fake look of surprise. “Oh, you mean, stolen from you, not from the original owner.”
“Please,” H’Jith said, “have some pity.”
“I have,” Zagrando said. “I told you. Give me your account. I’ll buy a ship, and you can forget you ever met me.”
H’Jith bowed its head. A violent shudder, almost a spasm, ran through it.
“I hate you,” H’Jith said softly.
“I don’t know why,” Zagrando said. “We’ve only just met.”
H’Jith stared at him. Zagrando stared back.
Then H’Jith shook its head. “All right,” it said. “One account if you promise you’ll never bother me again.”
“That’s going to be an easy promise to keep,” Zagrando said. “I promise. I won’t bother you.”
“All right, then,” H’Jith said. “I’m going to give you an account.”
“And, before you do,” Zagrando said, “realize one thing: If you screw me in any way, you’ll die, standing up in the middle of this stolen space yacht. Your family won’t know what happened to you for months, maybe years.”
The shuddering had grown so bad that H’Jith could barely stand. “One account,” it said, “and then we’re done.”
“I’m waiting,” Zagrando said.
“You’ll have to let me link to you,” H’Jith said.
“I’m sure the information is in your console here,” Zagrando said. “Ships like this back everything up. Just tell me how to access it.”
So H’Jith did.
Twenty-six
The Earth Alliance investigators had taken over the central confere
nce room. Popova had probably banned them from the area around her desk, thinking that would make them leave.
Instead, they had taken over the conference area that had clear windows on all four sides, with corridors around it. In truth, it should have been Popova’s office because she was the center of this floor, but the conference room wasn’t close enough to the elevator for her to monitor all the arrivals and departures. Rather than letting security do that, she preferred to do that herself.
In that way, she reminded Flint of DeRicci.
And himself.
He could feel Popova’s gaze on his back as he made his way to the conference room. He had shut her up when he told her that he didn’t work for her, but he had a hunch she was contacting DeRicci.
And DeRicci wasn’t going to be happy with him.
He didn’t care as long as he managed to move forward on this investigation.
The two Earth Alliance investigators weren’t sitting around waiting for someone to talk with them. They had attached some equipment to the long table in the conference room, and were doing some investigating of their own.
Fortunately, the conference room table wasn’t networked into any of the systems in the Security Office, so the investigators couldn’t access any proprietary information.
He wondered if they had tried.
He pulled open the door. The woman looked up at him first. She had wedge-cut black hair. It had purple highlights that matched the highlights on her clothing. She had tinted her lips purple as well, and the lids above her eyes had a faint purple tinge.
While he had learned to accept that level of fashion detail in some professionals without judging them, he found it odd that an investigator, whose job was often to blend in, would bother taking that kind of care.
The man sitting next to her looked more like the average investigator to Flint. That man had on a rumpled black suit, and his brown hair was tinged with gray. He had lines under his eyes and some extra pounds around his middle.
After a moment, the man looked up, too.
They watched Flint as if they were wary of what he was going to say or do.
“I’m Miles Flint,” he said, letting the door close behind him. “I’m a retired Retrieval Artist. I’ve been consulting on this investigation.”
“Hm,” the woman said as she stood. “And here I thought you were actually doing some of the investigating. I’m Wilma Goudkins.”
She extended her hand. Flint took it, noting the softness of her skin. She’d either had enhancements or had spent a lot of money to have treatments.
“And I’m Lawrence Ostaka,” the man said, extending his hand. “Forgive my partner. We’re a bit frustrated. The Earth Alliance sent us here to work with you folks to make certain that the investigation has all the resources it needs, and we’ve been frozen out.”
Flint shook Ostaka’s hand as well.
“I understand,” Flint said. “Secrecy is important up here. There’s a lot I don’t know, either.”
Somehow he managed to keep that from sounding bitter. He was angrier at DeRicci than he thought he was.
“But they finally sent you in here to talk with us,” the woman—Goudkins—said.
“Actually,” Flint said, “Rudra Popova just tried to stop me.”
Ostaka moved his head back just a little, as if he were surprised. “You came on your own?”
“We have to be clear,” Flint said. “I am not working for the Security Office, the City of Armstrong, or any Moon-based organization. I’m consulting, yes, but I’m doing this part on my own.”
“This meeting,” Goudkins said. Her dark eyes glittered. “That’s what you’re doing on your own. Not the investigation.”
Her questions irritated him. He was beginning to understand why Popova didn’t like them.
“The investigation,” he said, “has so many branches that it’s impossible to keep track of. Each bombed city has its own investigation. Then there are separate investigations into the assassinations. The Earth Alliance wants its own investigation, and Security Chief DeRicci is trying to find out what happened Moon-wide, so that she can prevent another attack.”
“You sound critical,” Goudkins said.
“If you continue to question me like you would question a suspect, Ms. Goudkins,” Flint said, “I will leave this room. And for the record, I don’t like the fact that you approached my underage daughter, trying to get information that Rudra Popova would not give you. You talk to my daughter again, and I will go to your superiors with a complaint.”
“They know I have to conduct this investigation—”
“They know inappropriate behavior as well,” Flint said. “I worked with the Earth Alliance dozens of times back when I was with the Armstrong Police Department. I’m not telling you anything new. You’ve looked at my records. But what you might not know is that I’ve developed some of the computer systems that the Alliance still uses. I don’t just have police contacts, I have contacts with the upper echelon of the Alliance. I will not hesitate to use those contacts if you persist in involving my daughter. Are we clear?”
Ostaka leaned back and crossed his arms. His expression didn’t change, but Flint got the sense that the man was amused.
Goudkins sat up just a little straighter. “We’re clear. Although I must say that threatening someone is not the best way to begin a cooperative relationship.”
Flint couldn’t take it any longer. “Is she always like this?” he asked Ostaka.
“Actually,” he said with a bit of a drawl, “her blunt doggedness usually gets us exactly what we want, which always surprises me. I would expect people to push back like you and your daughter have. But they generally don’t.”
Goudkins glared at her partner. He shrugged and gave her an almost impish smile.
“It’s true,” he said.
Flint knew the good cop, bad cop routine. It annoyed him.
“If we’re going to cooperate,” he said to them, “then I will be an equal partner or this conversation is over now. I want to know what you know—all of it, even the classified stuff. I don’t care if you tell your bosses. I certainly won’t. In fact, I won’t compromise much of anything. I know how to search for information without leaving a trace. And if you tell me information, I don’t have to seek it out on my own. If I do that, there’s the risk that I will blunder into your investigation and ruin it.”
“A threat, Mr. Flint?” Goudkins asked.
“The truth,” he said. “If you think you’re going to get cooperation when Security Chief DeRicci gets back, think again. She is the one who ordered Rudra Popova to ignore you. She doesn’t like you, and she’s worried that you’ll take over the investigation with no quid pro quo.”
“So why are you here?” Ostaka asked. “Are you going to feel us out?”
“I know this investigation has stalled. I also know that parts of the government have information the rest of the government doesn’t have. I talked with a few people tonight who have even more information.” Flint crossed his arms. “The problem here is that we have too much information. We don’t have enough people to process it, and we have no central clearinghouse for that information.”
“You propose to be the central clearinghouse?” Ostaka asked.
“I’m going to act that way whether you cooperate or not,” Flint said. “I will go to anyone I can to get information from and I will do my best to put that information together. I don’t care what organization gets stung in the process, whether it’s the Earth Alliance or some Moon government. I prefer to work in cooperation with everyone, but if that’s not possible, I will work alone.”
“Why are you so vigilant, Mr. Flint?” Goudkins asked. “What makes you so special?”
“I have special skills,” he said. “I can solve this thing if I have the right information. But that’s not what you’re asking, since you know who I am. You want to know why I care so much. You met the reason I care. My daughter has to grow up in this new world we find
ourselves in. I prefer that she concentrate on her schoolwork instead of spending her free time looking for bombers. I want her to spend her days making friends instead of worrying about what threat lurks around the next corner. That’s why I’m working so damn hard. I’m kind of amazed no one else is.”
“No one else, Mr. Flint?” Goudkins asked. “We’re here. No one in this office will work with us.”
“Because we’ve all worked with the Earth Alliance before. I’ve had cases that you people took over and then forbade me from working on. I know that Noelle has, too. I’m sure every major law enforcement agency has had the same experience.”
Ostaka’s amused expression slowly changed to something more serious. He sat up a bit straighter as well.
Goudkins hadn’t changed her position at all.
“As to why you’re here,” Flint said, “I assume you’re here because someone ordered you to be here. Otherwise, you’d be investigating some other crime in some other portion of the known universe.”
Goudkins looked down. Then she sighed.
“You assume we don’t have a personal stake,” Ostaka said.
“You probably work at Earth Alliance Headquarters on Earth,” Flint said. “The Moon can be very far away from there.”
“Wilma’s sister lived in Tycho Crater,” Ostaka said.
“Shut up,” Goudkins snapped.
“She contacted Wilma the minute the crisis started at the Top of the Dome.”
“Shut up,” Goudkins said.
“She was sending information through their private links all day—”
“He doesn’t care.” Goudkins turned toward her partner. “He’s going to think you made this up.”
“Actually, it’s easy to check,” Flint said. He was feeling sympathetic despite himself.
“Then you can check,” Goudkins said. “My sister stayed inside the center of the dome to help with the rescue efforts. When the Top of the Dome blew, she was right there.”
Goudkins looked like she was going to say more. Then she shook her head, as if saying more wasn’t worth her time.
“She heard her sister die,” Ostaka said softly.
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