by Timothy Zahn
“Yes, I thought you seemed surprised by that,” Kennrick conceded. “I suppose it was a bit of a risk, but with Aronobal and a couple of Shorshians in the room I really couldn’t afford to pass up the chance to start planting seeds.”
“And it was a theme you kept coming back to the whole trip,” I said, trying to visually backtrack the wires around Bayta’s neck. But my field of view was too limited for me to see where and how either of them was attached at the far end. “You also were way too incompetent for the liaison job you’d supposedly been hired for. Quite a few members of your team agreed on that.”
“I thought I already explained that,” he reminded me.
“Yes, and rather badly, too,” I said. “There must be hundreds of people on Earth who are competent at both the legal and the social aspects of Filly and Shorshic cultures. Surely Pellorian could have hired one of them in your place, if that was actually the job you were supposed to be doing.”
“I’m starting to think Mr. Hardin could have hired someone better than me for the real job, too,” Kennrick said calmly. “Fortunately, it’s too late for him to reconsider.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t make assumptions like that,” I warned. “Not with Hardin. And of course, there was the near-riot you sparked by starting the rumor back in third class that I’d done away with Logra Emikai. That whole thing made no sense until I realized its purpose was to maneuver Bayta and me into a situation where you’d get to see the kwi in action again.”
“Now, that one you shouldn’t have caught,” Kennrick commented. “Excellent. I can see why Mr. Hardin was so complimentary about you.”
“He was complimentary about me?”
“Within the context of hating your guts, yes,” Kennrick said. “Anything else? Come on—honest criticism is how we learn to do better the next time.”
Only there wouldn’t be a next time, I knew. The last thing the Spiders could afford—the last thing any of us could afford—was for him to make it to the next station and send a report back to Hardin on the success of his ghoulish little mission. One way or another, Kennrick was going to have to die aboard this train.
Even if Bayta had to die along with him.
“Compton?” Kennrick prompted. “You still there?”
“I’m still here,” I assured him.
“Anything else?”
“Just one more,” I said. “The bit that finally caught my attention. Remember when we hauled Emikai in here two nights ago and he was looking around trying to figure out if I really had a spectroscopic analyzer? He spent a lot of that time looking at my luggage, because obviously something like that would have to take up a lot of space.”
“Obviously,” Kennrick said. “So?”
“It got me thinking about the morning after Colix’s death, when you barged into my compartment also wanting to see the results of my tissue analysis,” I said. “Only unlike Emikai, you never even glanced at my luggage. Your eyes went instantly to my reader. My one-of-a-kind, high-tech, super-spy-loaded reader.” I cocked my head. “Only it isn’t one-of-a-kind anymore, is it?”
“Not anymore, no,” he agreed. “You know, I never even thought about that. Damn, but you’re good.”
“You’re too kind,” I said. “Yours must be even more interesting than mine for you to have sacrificed your high-ground bluff to keep it out of my hands.”
“Oh, it’s probably no more advanced than yours,” Kennrick said. “But I could hardly let you go poking around the encrypted files where my detailed report was hidden. Not with your familiarity with the thing.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Actually, my plan was just to show them that your reader was gimmicked like nothing they’d ever seen before. It never occurred to me that you’d be careless enough to actually have the data sitting in there where someone could find it.”
“You’re kidding,” Kennrick said, looking chagrined. “Well, damn it all. I guess I should have stood my ground a little longer.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I said. “We already knew enough about the killings to put you on ice, with or without Worrbin’s approval.”
“Speaking of which, what do you think of the method?” Kennrick asked. “Pretty clever, eh?”
“Hellishly clever,” I agreed, my stomach tightening. Back in my Westali days, I reflected, I could actually sit back and dispassionately discuss techniques for murder and torture without qualms. Not anymore. Not with Bayta’s life in this lunatic’s hands. “Where did you come up with a bacterium that could pack away that much heavy metal, anyway?”
Kennrick barked a laugh. “You want the real irony? That strain was originally designed with an eye toward curing heavy-metal poisoning. You inject the bacteria into the patient and let the little bugs spread out through his system, gobbling up every heavy-metal atom they happen across. Since their own biochemistry actually needs the stuff for reproduction, they multiply like crazy, but only up to the point where the metal’s all been found and locked up. All you do then is flush them out of the system, and voilá—patient’s cured. Send him home and charge his account.”
“Only here you reversed the process,” I said. “You spent the torchliner trip from Earth feeding the Shorshians bacteria that were already loaded to the gills with cadmium. You gave it a couple of weeks on the Quadrail to settle into their deep tissues, then uncorked a bottle of that really high-power antiseptic spray we found in the air filter. The bacteria die, in the process dumping their supplies of cadmium into the Shorshians’ bodies, and we’ve got three impossible murders.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kennrick said, a disturbing glint in his eyes. “There are no warning symptoms because the bacteria have the metal solidly locked up. The Spiders’ sensors won’t notice anything, because the bacteria themselves are perfectly benign and the detectors aren’t keyed for anything as low-level as basic elements. You can pick your time and place—hell, you don’t even have to be anywhere near your victim when he’s supposedly poisoned. It’s the perfect crime.”
“Only if you make sure there aren’t any Fillies around,” I pointed out.
His lip twisted. “There is that,” he conceded. “I didn’t realize how potent that spray really was, or that it would go deep enough to kill off Filiaelian gleaner bacteria. Too bad about Givvrac, really. I kind of liked the old coot. He was so—I don’t know. So old-world calcified, I guess. Wanting everything to be just like it had always been.”
“As opposed to the new world order you and Hardin are trying to make?”
“Not trying to make, Compton,” he corrected me softly. “Going to make.”
“Right,” I said. “So why let Tririn live? And why steal Colix’s throat lozenges that last night, when he thought you were putting them away for him?”
“Oh, come now,” Kennrick chided. “What’s a good murder without a suspect or two? Tririn’s annoyance over Colix’s throat operation made him the perfect patsy. I figured all I had to do was make the lozenges mysteriously disappear, to make it seem like Tririn was trying to cover up what Colix had done, and you’d fall all over yourself burying him in circumstantial evidence.”
“Without nailing down the method?” I shook my head. “Not a chance.”
“It was still worth a try,” Kennrick said. “Besides, this was an experiment, remember? I wanted to see what effect distance from the antiseptic spray had on the bacteria’s demise. Apparently, Master Bofiv was right on the edge—that’s why it took him longer to croak—and Master Tririn was just past it.” He picked up his reader from beside him on the bed and held it up for me to see. “It’s all in my report,” he added, a mocking edge to his tone.
“What about Strinni?”
“What about him?” Kennrick asked. “Oh—you mean the extra necrovri-laden bacterial strain I put in his food?” He shrugged. “I thought that as long as I was at it I might as well test the bacteria that had been designed to carry more complex molecules. Strinni was the perfect candidate for that o
ne, sitting isolated from the others up in first class and all.” He snorted gently. “Also the perfect candidate because he didn’t usually eat with the other Shorshians aboard the torchliner. Made it easy to feed him his special servings without getting it mixed in with the others’ dosages.”
“As well as making him look like a drug addict to his fellow Quadrail passengers?” I suggested.
Kennrick shrugged again. “I never liked him anyway.”
“And the thing with Logra Emikai and Osantra Qiddicoj?”
He frowned. “What thing?”
“Cutting Emikai loose and pumping Qiddicoj full of hypnotic,” I said. “How did you pull that one off?”
He frowned a little harder. “Sorry, but you’ve lost me,” he said. “But enough reminiscing. You ready to take a few orders?”
“Not yet,” I said, frowning in turn. If Kennrick hadn’t been involved with Emikai’s mysterious midnight visitor …but there was no time to worry about that now. “I want to know first what’s going to happen to Bayta,” I said. “She obviously can’t sleep sitting up in that chair.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got things rigged so that I can let her lie down on the floor later,” Kennrick assured me. “It’s going to be a little hard on her back, but there’s only one bed in here. Unless she wants to share?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, sternly forcing back a sudden surge of rage. If he so much as touched her …“Let me go get her a pillow and blanket.”
“From your compartment?” he countered. “Sorry. I’m not letting you go pick through whatever other goodies you’ve got back there and try to smuggle something in. Before you leave, you can grab a pillow and blanket from right there behind you and stuff them through the gap.”
“Good enough,” I said. Not that I had anything in my compartment that would help Bayta anyway. “What about food?”
“Not a problem,” he said. “I have enough ration bars to last me to Venidra Carvo.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sorry—did you mean food for her?”
I took a deep breath, again forcing down my anger. He was taunting me, I knew, trying to see how far he could push before I lost it.
He could just keep pushing. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. More to the point, I wasn’t going to let anger crowd out brainpower that would be better used for tactical thinking. “We’ve got plenty of other ration bars aboard,” I said. “Let me get her some.”
“In a bit,” Kennrick said. “My turn now?”
I swallowed. “Go ahead.”
“Okay,” he said. “First of all, obviously, no one is to attempt to come in here. Not you, not the Spiders, not anyone.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, eyeing the glinting wires wrapped around Bayta’s throat. “How the hell did you get all that wire past the Spiders’ sensors, anyway?”
“Ah, ah—my turn,” Kennrick said firmly. “When we get to Venidra Carvo, I get to walk free and clear without interference. Sorry—we get to walk free and clear.”
I saw the muscles in Bayta’s throat tighten, a sudden stricken look in her eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t thought past our arrival at Venidra Carvo. “You planning to take her along all the way back to Earth?” I asked Kennrick.
“Why not?” Kennrick said blandly, letting his eyes run up and down Bayta’s body. “I’m sure she’s very pleasant company.” He looked back at me and gave me a faint smile. “Relax, Compton. She stays with me only until I feel safe. At that point, I turn her loose. I promise.”
As if the promise of a murderer was worth a damn. “Fine,” I said. “Anything else?”
“Yes; the accommodations,” he said. “Rather, everyone else’s accommodations. I’m sure you’ve already made plans to isolate me by moving everyone else out of this car?”
“We thought it would help keep down the noise,” I said. “You know how neighbors can be.”
“Oh, there’s no need to convince me,” he said. “I agree completely. In fact, let’s go whole hog and move everyone out of all three compartment cars.”
I frowned. “All of them?”
“Like you said, peace and quiet. You’ve got two hours to get everyone out of here. Including you.”
“I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind,” I offered. “You might realize there’s something else you need.”
“I do mind, and I won’t need anything,” he said coolly. “More to the point, I want to know that any noises I hear in the night aren’t coming from some clumsy Shorshian falling out of bed. This way, anything I hear after the next two hours will be unauthorized.” He shifted his gaze to Bayta. “And will be dealt with accordingly.”
“I already said there wouldn’t be any intrusions.”
“This way, I’ll know you mean it,” he countered. “You’d better get going—you’ve got a lot to do in the next two hours.”
“Look, Kennrick, I understand—”
“Just go, Frank,” Bayta interrupted tautly. “You heard him. Go, and start getting it done.”
I frowned at her. There was a tightness around her eyes that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Was she suddenly worried about Kennrick’s order to move everyone out?
I didn’t know. But whatever the reason, I’d clearly run dry on hospitality here. “Okay, I’m going,” I said. “First let me get your bedding for you.”
I crossed the room and pulled the pillow and blankets off Minnario’s bed, wincing at the thought of him about to be kicked out of his compartment for the second time today. I thought about asking Kennrick if he would make an exception, decided I might as well save my breath. A four-time murderer was hardly likely to have any residual compassion for children, puppies, or cripples.
The blankets slipped easily through the gap in the divider. The much thicker pillow was trickier, but I eventually managed it. “That’s good,” Kennrick said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“What about Bayta’s food?” I asked. “And are you going to want anything in the way of liquid refreshment?”
“I think we can make do with water from the sink,” Kennrick said. “That way, since you’ll never know who’s going to be drinking next, I know you won’t try poisoning it or anything.”
I sighed. “You know, Kennrick, paranoids don’t really live any longer than other people. It just feels like it. What about her food?”
“Come back here in two hours,” he said. “Bring enough to last her the rest of the trip.”
“All right,” I said. “If you change your mind and want anything else—”
“Good-bye, Frank,” Bayta cut me off, the intensity in her voice matched by the look in her eyes.
“Yes, good-bye, Frank,” Kennrick repeated sarcastically. “See you in two hours. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be here.” I looked at Bayta, wondering if I should try to say something soothing. But she didn’t look like she was in a soothable mood. Nodding to her, I headed back across the compartment. I had just reached the door when I felt a subtle puff of air behind me, and turned to see the divider seal itself against the wall.
I swore under my breath. But it wasn’t a curse of anger or frustration or even fear. The conversation with Kennrick had burned all such emotions out of my system. All that remained was the cold, detached combat mentality Westali had worked so hard to beat into me. We’ll outthink him, I’d told Emikai. It was time I got started on that. Punching the door release, I stepped out into the corridor.
And came to an abrupt halt. Standing motionlessly in the corridor between me and the car’s rear door were two conductor Spiders. “What?” I demanded.
Neither of them answered. I opened my mouth to ask the question again …and then belatedly, my brain caught up with me, and I took a second, closer look.
Because they weren’t conductors. They were larger, with the pattern of white dots that usually denoted a stationmaster.
I’d almost forgotten about the message we’d tried to send as we’d blown past the hidden siding a few days ago. Apparently, the
gamble had paid off.
No wonder Bayta had been so anxious for me to cut short the conversation and get out here.
“Frank Compton?” one of the Spiders said in the flat voice all Spiders seemed to have.
“Yes.” I took a deep breath, a cold chill shivering across my skin. “Welcome, defenders. And may I say, it’s about damn time.”
———
I’d expected to have to spend at least the first hour helping get all the compartment cars emptied of passengers. But either Bayta or the defenders had already given the orders, and I quickly discovered that the conductors had the procedure under way. Leaving that task to them, I took the defenders back to my compartment for a quick tactical session.
“Let’s start with you,” I said as I closed the door behind me. “How many of you are there, and where’s your tender?”
“We are two,” one of the defenders said. His particular white-dot pattern reminded me of a military chevron lying on its side; privately, I dubbed him Sarge. “Our tender currently travels behind this train.”
“Which I assume means you came aboard from the rear through the baggage cars,” I said. “Did you bring any specialized equipment?”
“What sort of equipment?”
“Anything besides standard Spider tools and replacement parts,” I said. “Weapons, another kwi, burglar tools—anything?”
The Spiders were silent for a moment, probably discussing the matter between themselves. “No weapons or tools,” Sarge said at last. “But the tender is equipped with a side-extendable sealable passageway.”
I frowned. “You mean like a portable airlock?”
“Yes,” Sarge confirmed.
“Good,” I said. “Let’s get whatever you do have within a bit easier reach. Can you bring the tender up the auxiliary service tracks alongside the right-hand side of the train?”
“We require a Crosshatch to change tracks,” Sarge said.
“Yes, I know,” I said. A Crosshatch was a section of spiral-laid tracks that allowed a Quadrail to quickly switch from one track to another without having to first get to a station. “Are there any coming up?”
