Then he heard someone coughing within the smoky wreckage.
“Brother?” Rom repeated hopefully, stepping inside.
In the far corner, huddled near the still locked door, lay a large bundle of rags. Which coughed once again.
Rom stepped carefully toward the bundle, taking care not to kick slivers of twisted metal in that direction. “Quark?” he said, his voice a near whisper. “Are you . . . alive?”
A shaky voice responded slowly. “I think . . . someone is . . . trying to kill me,” it said.
“Quark,” Rom said, running over to embrace him. “I . . . I . . . That was . . . me.”
There was a long pause, and then, finally, Quark said, “I should have known.”
Chapter 25
Odo walked the few meters to where Rascoe lay, half frozen, on the ground. The shape-shifter felt almost sorry for him. Four times he’d narrowly escaped being fried by Rom’s erratic disruptor blasts—ironically, with Rascoe’s own weapon—but this last time really had taken the fight out of him. His eyes were open, blinking slowly, but he didn’t move when Odo brushed some tiny splinters of the pulverized shed wall from his face. Odo didn’t notice any obvious injuries; apparently the Ferengi was too cold, too dazed, or too scared to move. He didn’t even protest when the shape-shifter reached down and took the knife he still held in his frozen fingers.
“Move,” the former constable said, grabbing the back of Rascoe’s icy orange shirt and standing him upright. Shivering, the Ferengi managed to remain standing, but he didn’t attempt to move on his own. So Odo walked him to the dome and shoved him through the open door. Somehow, Rascoe’s legs continued to work long enough to get him into the warmth of the main room, where he flopped down and curled into a ball.
Odo remained outside, waiting for Quirk’s shuttle. He glanced in the direction that Yrena and Bakke had hobbled a few minutes earlier. I guess I’d better go get them before they freeze to death, he thought. Still, he knew that they’d be easy to catch, and he was more interested right now in finding out what might have happened to Quark. But even as he took his first step toward the remains of the shed, he heard the hum of a shuttlecraft approaching, and turned his gaze to the sky.
The large official security vehicle—definitely the twenty-fourth-century equivalent of the paddy wagon he’d requested—looped overhead and settled near Odo. Then the entry hatch opened and Quirk appeared, wearing a heavy coat with a fur collar and carrying a phaser and several sets of heavy-duty manacles.
“You’ve come prepared,” Odo said when Quirk stood at his side.
Quirk just nodded, then tilted his head toward the two devastated shuttlecrafts. “Looks like someone’s had a bit of trouble,” he said.
“That,” Odo said with a near smile, “is the handiwork of your nagus.”
Quirk lifted his brow ridge in a questioning gesture.
“It’s an interesting story,” Odo stated. “And we’ll get to it. But first we need to check out the contents of this shed.” The two approached the blackened opening in the side of the structure.
“Another interesting story, I suspect,” Quirk said, eyeing the damage. They stepped inside to observe Rom and Quark, kneeling on the floor, wrapped in a tight hug.
Quirk nudged Odo, and they stepped back out into the wind. “I assume that fellow covered in soot would be your kidnap victim,” he said.
“Yes. I have one of the kidnappers here, in the dome. The other two are in the wind—” Odo pointed in the direction they’d gone. “Or rather, they’re out there, on the lam, but they won’t have gotten far. They’re bound together with some particularly unforgiving restraints. Without something like a phaser or a Klingon d’k tahg, I doubt they’ll be able to get out of them. Look for them with heat sensors. They’ll likely be the only warm bodies on the tundra. I suspect that by the time you find them, they’ll be more than happy to see you.”
Quirk nodded. “Well, unless they make the mistake of waking a pod of hibernating polar toads, I imagine they can wait a little longer. I’ll start with the one in here first.”
They stepped into the dome, and with little effort, Quirk cuffed the still shivering Ferengi on the floor. The security chief smiled at Odo. “Not bad work,” he said. “If you’re ever interested in an enforcement position, look me up.” He glanced back at the shed. “I should probably bring those two with me. That two-seater buggy of the nagus’s—”
“I’ll make sure they get home. You go rescue the other two thugs from the toads. I’ll come in to file a report providing all the details tomorrow.”
Quirk nodded and walked his first prisoner toward his vehicle.
Odo watched as it rose into the air. Then he returned to the shed. It’s time I got these boys home, he thought, looking at Quark and Rom. They’ll be more than happy to get warm, too.
Helping Quark to his feet, Odo and Rom walked him to the official nagal shuttle. Odo climbed in first and sat in the pilot’s chair. “I’m not sure that either of you are in fit condition to pilot a shuttle right now,” he explained.
The brothers hesitated.
“There’s only room for one of us in there,” Quark said, sounding irritated.
“You can sit on my lap, Brother,” Rom offered.
“We’re not children,” Quark responded. “I don’t want to sit on your lap.”
“Then I’ll sit on your lap.”
“No! I’ve been tied up and locked up and blown up. I want my own seat!”
Odo fired up the engines. “Gentlemen,” he said in his most constabulary voice, “I’m about to depart. Since this is the nagus’s shuttle, he’s welcome to come with me. Whether you both come is up to you, Quark.”
And a moment later, the shuttle lifted off, heading toward Ferenginar’s capital city.
Chapter 26
ONE WEEK LATER . . .
Should I tell him? Odo wondered as he stared at Chief O’Brien.
O’Brien took another long draw of his drink—something dark brown and foamy that looked thick enough to stand a spoon in. When he lowered his glass, the faint foam mustache that Odo had noticed earlier was even more pronounced.
Ah. There’d be no point, Odo thought. It would just reappear with each swig.
O’Brien placed the glass on a coaster, then leaned back and followed up on his earlier question to the Changeling. “But you must have enjoyed it, right? Participating in a real-life caper?”
Odo sighed. He’d explained this twice already, but either O’Brien didn’t remember or he didn’t believe him. “I’m not sure that I’d refer to it as a ‘caper,’ Chief. It was just a routine investigation. I followed the clues, just the way I would have in the old days.”
O’Brien shook his head. “I don’t know, Odo. Greedy people. Seedy neighborhoods. Murder. Kidnapping. A femme fatale masterminding the whole operation. Sounds a lot like a caper to me.”
“Yrena was hardly a ‘femme fatale,’ ” Odo insisted.
“Probably the closest thing to one on Ferenginar,” chuckled the chief, finishing his drink. He closed his eyes and smiled happily. “Nectar of the gods,” he said. Then he opened them and waved to Frool. “Another bottle of my special stout, please.”
“Coming right up,” said Frool, hustling to the stockroom.
“I don’t recall seeing you drink that in the past,” Odo remarked.
“I got Treir to order it for me while Quark was away. A pity you don’t drink, Odo. I’d treat you to one.”
“You can treat me to one,” said a new arrival, joining them at the bar.
O’Brien looked at him dubiously. “It’s stout, Nog. Not root beer.”
The smile on the young Ferengi’s face faded. “Oh. But it looked like . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Looks can be deceiving,” noted O’Brien. “Right, Odo?”
“Undoubtedly,”
said the shape-shifter.
Although he wasn’t sure that he’d admit it to anyone here, Odo felt good being back at the station, and pleased to be considered part of the family, albeit a very motley family. It’s how he’d felt being a part the Great Link, but that feeling had faded when members of the Link scattered, leaving nothing behind . . .
Not even a forwarding address, as Quark had put it, a surprisingly apt observation for the typically insensitive bartender.
But here on this station . . . For some reason, the crew of Deep Space 9 still welcomed him as family. Even though he’d separated himself from them years ago. Odo wasn’t sure how long he’d stay among them this time. But for the moment, he was content to remain.
“Hey!” shouted Nog. “My dad! Frool, turn up the sound!”
The big monitor above the bar revealed an image of the nagus and Nog’s stepmother, Leeta, seated together on a large sofa in the Nagal Residence.
“Wow!” the Ferengi engineer said excitedly. “He’s being interviewed by that Federation News Service reporter!”
O’Brien squinted at the screen. “Wasn’t she here a couple months ago? What was her name? Eisla something . . .”
“Darvis,” said Odo, turning his attention to the screen.
“—Ferenginar,” the reporter was saying, “where a mysterious crime spree involving murder, kidnapping, larceny, and embezzlement has at last been brought to an end, thanks, in part, to the heroic efforts of Ferenginar’s own Grand Nagus Rom.
“I’m here at the palatial Nagal Residence for an exclusive interview with the nagus about the events leading up to the arrest of Yrena—widow of the nagus’s uncle, Frin—and her two sons. The arrest took place last week in Upper Bowog Bay, where Yrena was building a large recreational casino using funds that she had funneled from accounts belonging to the late Frin, and Frin’s two other wives . . .”
“What’s going on?” said Ro as she walked in and joined the men at the bar.
“They’re interviewing my dad!” Nog answered proudly, his grin practically as wide as Bajor’s Holana River.
“I understand that you arrived at the Bowog compound before Ferenginar’s Chief Quirk. So you were one step ahead of law enforcement. Some of your followers have started calling you ‘Ready-for-Action Rom’—”
“What?” Rom’s eyes flashed an expression of surprise and embarrassment, while Leeta beamed with delight.
“—and that you single-handedly destroyed Yrena and her gang’s escape shuttles—”
“Oh . . . oh . . . that was just . . .”
“—and that you broke your brother out of his confinement, while you were being assaulted by one of Yrena’s sons—”
“I just . . . it was an accident. I don’t really know how to . . . I was just eager to save my brother so . . . I acted on instinct.”
“His instincts are amazing!” Leeta interjected, unable to contain her pride. “Everything about my husband is amazing!”
The bar erupted in laughter. “You tell her, Leeta!” shouted Nog, but even he was chuckling.
“Who’s that?” asked Ro as the interview with Rom ended and the visual cut to Eisla Darvis talking with an unfamiliar Ferengi.
Odo looked up. “That’s Quirk.”
“That’s not Quark,” commented Frool as he raced by carrying a tray.
“Quirk,” repeated Odo, emphasizing the pronunciation.
“Oh—your cop friend,” said O’Brien. “Shh—I want to hear what he has to say.”
“And what information led you to believe that Yrena and her sons were responsible for the deaths of Financial Manager Hilt and . . .”—Eisla paused—“a bartender named Pug?”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit. Before I got involved, the nagus had engaged an outside investigator—a retired constable from Deep Space 9—to help him find his brother, who’d disappeared during a visit to our fair planet. As it turned out, the brother was a witness to Hilt’s murder. I believe Yrena kept him alive to use as a potential bargaining chip in dealing with the nagus.”
“Some bargaining chip,” said O’Brien.
“I understand you were able to rescue the brother.”
“Why,” Ro asked suddenly, looking at her friends, “does she keep avoiding using Quark’s name?”
“Bad blood,” O’Brien said, sipping his stout.
“She’s still mad at him,” confided Nog. “He wouldn’t give her a sneak peek at the Sacred Scroll during the embassy dedication. Right, Morn?”
At the end of the bar, on his usual stool, the big Lurian looked up from his drink and gave Nog a thumbs-up.
“It was the nagus who found his brother,” Quirk was saying on the screen. “He busted him out of the shed Yrena had him confined in. And Constable Odo provided the clue that allowed me to track the financial trail that led directly to Yrena.”
“And what was that clue?”
“Three words: Sludge Liquid Assets.”
“What are ‘Sludge Liquid Assets’?”
“A shell company that Yrena set up to cover her illicit transactions.”
“Well, bravo, Odo!” O’Brien said, gently tapping the Changeling’s shoulder.
Odo shrugged. “All in a day’s work,” he said.
“I knew you could do it,” Ro said with a smile. She glanced around the busy room. It was noisy with people having a good time. “Where’s Quark?” she asked. “It’s not like him to avoid the bar, particularly when he has this many customers. I’ve hardly seen him since he got back.”
“Office,” Frool informed her as he skittered past.
Ro turned to Odo. “Is he all right?”
Odo started to answer, then realized he didn’t really know. And he wasn’t one to speculate when interrogation was an option. He stood up, looked at Ro, and said, “Let’s ask him.”
Chapter 27
Odo and Ro found Quark bent over his desk, fingers flying as he entered information into his console. Padds of various sizes lay scattered everywhere in the room—on the floor, on the credenza, and, of course, on the visitor’s chair across from his desk.
“This looks familiar,” Ro said with a smile. “The last time I saw him this occupied with a project, he was plotting Embassy Dedication Day. You’re not planning another big party, are you, Quark?”
“No, I am not,” he said without bothering to look up.
“We haven’t seen you for days,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “I’m busy. Thanks for asking.”
“Busy with what?” Odo asked. He noted that one padd was positioned very close to Quark’s elbow, where he could easily glance at it while he was typing. The shape-shifter craned his neck to look over the Ferengi’s shoulder.
Quark frowned and looked up. “It doesn’t concern you. Why don’t you go buy a drink that you’re not going to drink?”
“Your friends are worried about you,” Ro gently cajoled. “Morn has been asking about you.”
“Hmmph. He didn’t seem to worry about me worrying about him all those months that he was gone.” He paused and glanced up at the shelf where a small Ferengi action figure was on display. “Although I did appreciate his picking up a Dilb the Destitute for me while he was gone. And I already told him that,” he said, glancing back at Ro, “so don’t try to make me feel guilty.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Ro replied softly.
“Well, I used to think I knew what you’d do,” he responded, turning fully toward her, “but I must admit that lately—”
Taking advantage of the shift in Quark’s attention, Odo quickly reached past the Ferengi and managed to pick up the padd. A look of recognition crossed his features as he studied it. “Why are you still working on this?” he asked.
“Why are you still here?” Quark said with a scowl.
Ro tu
rned a quizzical glance to Odo. “What is it?
“He’s finalizing plans for that big casino—the one that doesn’t belong to him.”
Annoyed, Quark reached up, grabbed the padd, and returned it to his desk.
“I don’t understand,” Ro addressed Quark. “You’re doing work that will benefit only Frin’s wives?”
“Only Chartreux and Weede,” Quark said. “They get to keep the casino and split Yrena’s shares of Frin’s functioning taverns. Yrena forfeited her inheritance when the FCA heard about her illicit activities.”
“Yes, I can see how poisoning your husband might be grounds for a voided marriage contract,” Odo commented dryly.
“Not to mention getting your sons to commit a couple of murders,” Ro added. “But I don’t understand why you’re helping the remaining wives. Are they giving you a percentage?”
“No,” snapped Quark. Then, a few seconds later, he added, “They don’t know I’m doing this. Those ignorant fe-males didn’t even know that Yrena planned to rob them blind until Quirk told them. He’s going to put them in touch with a financial overseer to handle their business dealings—one who isn’t a crook—and I’ll give this to him when I’m done.”
Ro studied the Ferengi with new eyes. “But Quark . . . why?” she asked.
“Oh, his mother probably told him it’d be the right thing to do,” suggested Odo.
“No,” Quark growled. “Nobody told me to do it.”
“Ah,” reasoned the Changeling. “You just can’t stand to leave a project unfinished.”
Quark lifted his chin proudly. “It’s a damn impressive bit of work, if I do say so myself. For years, people have said behind my back that I’m small-time. That I can only run a small bar on an isolated space station with a captive audience. Well, I proved them wrong with my bar on Bajor. And this one—this place will be a real destination draw! Once I’m finished reworking these plans, it’ll be the best casino on Ferenginar.”
I, the Constable Page 12
