“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Jamie asked when the unit beeped again.
Ankari sighed and looked at it. “No.”
She had already checked the caller and knew it was her mother. Ankari did not have any idea how much of the Midway 5 news was being broadcast to the system, but she was sure there were enough tidbits in there to keep any relative worrying. And what if the altered footage from the pet-store incident had been broadcast on the general feed? Whichever one of her brothers—she wagered it was Darok—had been researching the mercenaries had probably learned that Viktor was the one Ankari was seeing. And if Viktor had been on the news, being flex-cuffed and dragged away... Yes, her mother would be worrying.
“What if it’s Sergei?” Jamie asked.
“Unless he’s moved in with my mother on Novus Earth, I deem that unlikely.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, Sergei would be more likely to call you.” Ankari hoped that happened soon. Her own attempt to find camera footage of those mafia bullies had failed. Either none of the store owners had published it to the network, or they were being stored behind passwords. If she wanted footage to show somebody, she needed to find that next-door neighbor the Ogilvy woman had mentioned. Li Yanping. Of course, Ankari had not yet figured out who she would show that footage to or how it might help her clear her name, but she was working on that.
“Did you see this?” Jamie shifted her tablet so the holodisplay was visible.
The image of Ankari’s own face stared back at her. “I saw it.”
It was the warrant for her arrest. She had scanned it twice, searching for a line that would proclaim that the security officers were authorized to use deadly force to apprehend her. It wasn’t there. But the warrant stated that she was armed, dangerous, and mendacious. As if all criminals seeking to avoid arrest weren’t mendacious.
“I can’t believe that’s all because of the tablet you took,” Jamie said. “We didn’t even keep it. How much trouble can you get in for temporary theft?”
“On Midway 5, the theft of property of less than one hundred aurums in value comes with a maximum punishment of a one-thousand-aurum fine.” That had been the first thing Ankari had looked up when they settled into their hiding spot.
“No jail time?”
“No jail time. It’s certainly not the kind of thing a security officer is supposed to shoot a person over.”
“So you think something more is going on here?” Jamie asked. “That whoever’s ordering the news feeds altered has altered your warrant too?”
“Possibly. I—”
The sound of voices drifted to them from the other side of the cavernous compost and waste room, so Ankari snapped her mouth shut. They had sent their location to Sergei earlier, but he wouldn’t make noise as he approached, nor would he be bringing anyone else.
Jamie closed down her tablet, and the glow it had been providing disappeared. Darkness embraced them, broken only by tiny green and red indicator lights glowing from the machinery. The slender red beams guarding the door also remained visible. Ankari thumbed the silence on for her comm unit, in case her mother tried calling again.
“There it is,” a male voice said, heard more clearly now that the speakers had moved closer.
The textured metal decking clanked as two people walked across it. At least one of them was on the heavy side.
“That’s an Excelsior Nine system,” the other speaker said, also male. “Looks like they’ve anticipated people messing with the environmental controls.”
The figures came into view, one carrying a bright flashlight, the beam swinging around the chamber and glinting off pipes. Ankari leaned deeper into the shadows, glad she and Jamie had thought to hide behind a control box that thrust up from the floor. Otherwise, that swinging light might have revealed them.
The two men stopped five feet from the door, studying the beams thoughtfully. One was of average size, but the second loomed nearly seven feet tall with massive shoulders and meaty arms—with that build, Viktor would have appeared slight beside him. They both wore nondescript black and brown clothes without anything that suggested a uniform. Laser pistols, knives, and other tools—or weapons—Ankari could not identify hung from their belts.
“Any chance you can get through it? Things would be easier if we could make the lights go off throughout the whole station.”
“Or at least the power on the airlock and clamps holding our ship? Sorry, I want to get out of here as much as you do, but that’s beyond my hacking skills.” The big man tossed something at the laser field in front of the door. With a flash of light, it was incinerated. “You know brute strength is more what I have a knack for.”
Hm, these were probably mercenaries or smugglers who wouldn’t mind breaking a law in order to escape a quarantine. On the chance they might be something more, Ankari risked opening her tablet to the recorder. She stuck her arm out so she could capture images of the men.
“I won’t be offended if you shut down the security system by tearing up a tree and hurling it through the door.”
The big man snorted. “No handy trees growing up here, like in that big park. We’re being recorded too.”
Ankari’s heart lurched. She was certain he had spotted her somehow, even though he had not looked in her direction. But the man pointed at the darkness above the door.
“Camera up there,” he said.
His buddy shrugged. “Won’t be the first time I’ve been recorded this week.” He made a rude gesture at the camera, then sighed and turned around. “Come on. We’re going to have to try something else. There are ten Fleet ships less than two days from the station, and we’re the only people who got caught off-ship and can do anything about it. As the captain pointed out when he was threatening our families.” The man grumbled under his breath. “As if we needed an incentive. I don’t want to be stuck here when the Fleet pulls up next to us.”
“No shit.” The big man followed after him, and their voices faded as they walked away. The last thing Ankari caught was, “Don’t know why the pakhan sent us out here this week.”
“Pakhan?” Ankari whispered after a hatch clanged shut, leaving them alone again. A tendril of anticipation wormed its way into her belly. “Isn’t that what the Russian mafia people call their boss?”
Jamie shrugged. “The Russians didn’t settle on Mercruse, so I’ve never dealt with them. We just had Americans on one continent and Europeans on mine. If you want details on the Italian mafia, I know some of that history, but it’s not relevant to our system—the Europeans were pretty strict about who got aboard the colony ships back on Old Earth.”
“Are you suggesting my ancestors let random mafia thugs into space?” came a dry male voice from the shadows beside them.
Ankari almost dropped her tablet, but Jamie turned around and, without hesitation, flung herself into Sergei’s arms, as if they had been parted for months instead of hours. Maybe being chased through the hospital and shot at had left Jamie feeling the depths of her own mortality.
While they kissed and embraced, Ankari looked up the word pakhan and found that her memory had been correct. Maybe those had been the very same men who had threatened the shop owners. At the least, they might be from the same ship. She typed in what she remembered of their brief conversation and ignored the kissing sounds beside her.
Fortunately, Jamie and Sergei soon switched to handholding.
“I have your pictures of the dead bodies,” Sergei said. “They all have bite marks, usually near the head or necks, but one was on the back of the hand and another on the wrist. Here’s a list of the causes of death for the victims.” He held out his tablet and read from his notes, or perhaps some doctor’s notes. “In all cases, their hearts seized up and stopped. The doctors originally thought venom from the animal bites had caused it, but they could not identify the venom, and the victims didn’t die right away. The bites all appear to have happened a day or two before the deaths. Their most recent theory is th
at whatever attacked these people was carrying a disease, one that might turn out to be transmittable from human to human without bites. That’s the reason for the quarantine.” Sergei lowered his tablet. “From the comments I overheard, I got the impression that none of the doctors on the station have research backgrounds or are the ideal people to be doing this analysis.”
“Thank you, Sergei.”
“Were you able to, ah?” Jamie made a motion Ankari could not decipher. Pumping something?
“Yes.” Sergei withdrew a syringe of blood and showed it to them.
“That’s blood from someone who may have died of a horrible transmittable disease?” Ankari kept herself from running across the room to escape it, but only because she didn’t want to snuggle up to that container of radioactive waste. “Nice of you to bring it to share with us.”
“Jamie thought Lauren might like to take a look,” Sergei said.
“Oh. I guess that’s not a bad idea.” Ankari eyed the syringe and tried to remind herself that, no matter what the doctor’s notes said, she no longer believed that a horrible infectious disease would kill everyone on the station. She now believed that the mafia was behind all of the chaos going on. Yes, no reason to be alarmed by that syringe, even if nothing but a thin layer of glastica lay between it and her... “You know anything about the Russian mafia by chance, Sergei? Would they have the means to find a deadly disease and unleash it on humanity?”
He pocketed the syringe. “Anyone with enough money can get an unscrupulous lab to design a new, deadly disease. But to answer your question, I don’t know that much about the mafia. We had gangs on the station where I grew up, and I was in one for a while. You had to kill someone to become a full-fledged member. My mother, with her dying breath, begged me to sign up for the army and get off the station before it killed me. She never had much time for me when I was growing up, but I guess she felt guilty in the end. Wanted me to be a better person, have a better life. Guess she didn’t know I’d be doing the same thuggery for the Fleet as I was doing for the gangs. Seemed like some of the gangs had mafia ties, but mostly they were just semi-organized excuses for violence. Nothing ever changed. Who was in power didn’t matter. Nobody had any grandiose plans or ever got off the station.”
Even though Sergei spoke indifferently about his past, Jamie slipped an arm around his back and watched him with concern.
“You know, Sergei,” Ankari said, “that’s probably the most you’ve ever spoken to me. Someday you should try being chatty about a topic that isn’t so grim.”
“I’m not an expert on many topics.”
“Maybe you could take up a soothing hobby. Like knitting. Or baking.”
“Baking?” Jamie lifted her brows. “Are you still lobbying for someone to take over cooking for Mandrake Company?”
“Yes, but Viktor said he wouldn’t hire anyone who wasn’t also a skilled soldier. Or perhaps an assassin.” Ankari smiled at Sergei, even if his past—and his present—didn’t make her that comfortable. “You could use your knives to poke holes into batter for doughnuts.”
“What’s next?” Sergei asked, apparently not interested in poking pastries. “We breaking out Mandrake?”
Ankari almost said, “Why not?” She was a criminal on the books here, anyway. But she feared that would cause events to escalate in a manner that might not be healthy for her, the business, or Mandrake Company. Hell, maybe they already were escalating, and it was too late to come in on the side of the law.
She did want to talk to Viktor. By now, maybe he had figured out why someone had been so insistent about getting him thrown into jail. She wondered if Security was allowing him visitors. Of course, she could contact Borage and ask. He and Sergeant Azarov should still be stuck over here too.
“Have you been in contact with anyone from Mandrake Company?” Ankari asked Sergei.
Sergei’s lips thinned in what might have been a smile—on him, it was hard to tell. “Nobody knows I left.”
Good. Even if she had not requested it, Ankari had hoped he would sneak off without telling anyone, since she did not know if she could trust everyone on the ship. Also, Commander Garland seemed like someone who would follow the law and not break a quarantine.
“Why don’t you see if you can get in to visit Viktor?” Ankari asked. “Given my new infamy, I better not show up there, but you—”
Her comm vibrated in her pocket. Ankari tugged it out.
“Lauren?” she asked, recognizing the identification.
“They painted graffiti all over the shuttle,” Lauren blurted, her voice breathless.
“What? How do you know? Where are you?” Ankari had left her at the hotel, instructing her to get a new room, one that couldn’t be traced to Ankari.
“I went back to the shuttle to see if it was still guarded,” Lauren said. “We’ve had clients calling, wanting to know why their appointments for today had been canceled. I thought that if nobody was at the shuttle, I could go in and return to business. I didn’t see anyone in the bay, but, Ankari, someone has painted graffiti all over Ladybug. Curse words and rude pictures and I don’t know what else.” Lauren gulped in air, audibly forcing calmness into her voice, though she didn’t entirely succeed. “It didn’t look like anyone had gotten inside, but the... hateful things on there scared me. Do you think someone would attack us? Attack me? Ankari, why did you two leave me alone? You know I don’t like... field work.”
Field work. As if this was anything so benign.
Ankari stood up, almost clunking her head on a pipe. She paced, trying to sort out her thoughts. Everything was happening too quickly, and her to-do list was turning into a jumbled snarl with all of the tidiness and organization of a hairball.
“All right,” Ankari said. “Let’s meet up. We need your skills, anyway. Jamie and I will meet you at...” She groped for a place where there wouldn’t be a knot of security men waiting to arrest her. “That spa. The one with the casinos inside. That’s still open, right? The one outside of the atrium?”
“When?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Jamie and Sergei shared glances.
“Problem?” Ankari asked, stuffing the comm unit back in her pocket.
“We’ve had... bad luck with spas in the past,” Jamie said.
“I’m not planning to use the facilities, just have a meeting. And Sergei, I do want you to try and get in to visit Viktor. See what he’s thinking—does he want us to work with Borage? Does he want to be broken out?” The more things were going wrong, the more Ankari thought it was a bad idea to keep their forces split. As long as she was going to be chased by Security, maybe she could do it with Viktor at her side. “You can get the lay of the terrain while you’re there. See what might be possible. Here, in case this might be useful, you take it.” She pulled out Viktor’s Lock Master. “Also, if Security asks who you are, there’s no need to mention your occupation. You can tell them that you’re the ship’s physician, and you’re there to check on Viktor’s condition, on account of his health issues.”
“Doctor?” Sergei looked down his form. Most of the knives, garrotes, and whatever else he kept stashed about his person were not visible, but it was true that he didn’t look like someone who would be overly concerned with the health of people.
“You can do it,” Ankari assured him. “Nobody would expect a mercenary doctor to look less dour and curmudgeonly than the mercenaries.”
Sergei lifted an eyebrow at Jamie.
She prodded him with her elbow. “I thought you were used to going along with the schemes of three girls by now.”
His eyes softened as he regarded her. “You haven’t been around for the last couple of weeks. I got used to the schemes of men again.”
“The captain’s never sent you in to assassinate someone under the guise of being a doctor?”
“No.” Sergei’s mouth twisted. “He rarely sends me to assassinate anyone, not unless many more lives can be saved as a result. I don’t think he
finds it honorable.”
“Sounds like him,” Ankari said.
Sergei took a breath and nodded. “I will go to the jail. You are correct. The security and layout must be assessed.” He looked at the lock-picking device, and his lip curled slightly, as if it might be an inferior model to what he was used to. Or maybe he doubted it would prove sufficient for jail-breaking purposes. Still, Viktor had said he specifically used it for that—unless he had been pulling her leg. “Should an opportunity present itself, I will not need that.”
Ankari shrugged and returned it to her pocket. She would not be above using it again, if necessary.
9
With a few tools, removing the light fixture mounted flush against the ceiling would have been a simple matter. With nothing except for fingernails he kept clipped close to the quick, Viktor was not having much luck. Whoever was watching the cameras was probably finding the attempt amusing, especially since it involved balancing on the rim of the fold-out toilet. If there were multiple guards, they might be taking bets to see if he lost his balance and fell in. Not that there was much to fall into—the vacuum system sucked up all trace of matter, biological or otherwise. He had already dismissed the toilet as something that could be useful in an escape. It could not be heated up to trigger the smoke detectors stationed throughout the cellblock, but perhaps he could do something with the light.
At the sound of footsteps, Viktor abandoned his project and hopped to the floor. He probably should be resting while he was incarcerated, since he had done little of that in the last month, but the idea of accepting his fate lying down grated at him.
He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the owner of the footsteps to come into view—two owners, his ears told him. He doubted it would be anybody interested in him. It had only been a few hours since Borage and Azarov visited, and he did not expect to see them back until tomorrow.
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