Todd apologized for acting silly, but the truth was, they were all nervous. Something could delay the shipment, or Dalkey might be seen where he had no reasonable explanation to be. Both Nrrna and Kelly arranged to be on hand to receive the supplies. This time Nrrna did not wear any scent.
The grid operator flinched when he recognized Nrrna appearing on the platform from First Village. He still found her attractive, though not as strongly, and especially not when she was accompanied by a Hayuman female. He only hoped that the Treaty Controller was not expecting another shipment, but a quick glance at the manifest told him he didn’t need to worry about that tonight.
Kelly was relieved that the operator seemed too busy to chat them up. She and Nrrna managed a desultory conversation while they waited, but they were so keyed up they’d forget what the other had just said. Kelly kept imagining problems: what if the envelope didn’t come or got torn loose in the transfer? What if Dalkey got caught? They needed to have genuine, hard documentation. Well, maybe if Dalkey didn’t come through for them, they might have some luck with the documents that the Treaty Controller had personally awaited. Anything that pleased an associate of Third Speaker was likely to be bad for Doona.
When the suspense became so great that Kelly was prepared to dive right through the pillars and drag the shipment up from Earth, the air thickened over the gridwork and the pallets materialized. She and Nrrna let out sighs of relief.
“Will you check it now so I may clear the grid?” the operator asked.
“That’s why we’re here,” she said, handing a sheaf of papers from her clipboard to Kelly and peremptorily gesturing her to go to the back of the grid.
They’d planned this so Kelly would be screened from the operator and could feel under the pallet for the envelope. Then she thought of a better stratagem than blind groping.
She let her clipboard drop. “Ooops,” she said gaily, and, in attempting to pick it up, kicked it under the pallet. “Wouldn’t you know?” she said with cheerful self-disgust. She got down, peering under the shipment, trying to see Dalkey’s envelope. He’d been instructed to use a gray one which wouldn’t be so readily visible to anyone casually glancing under the plastic pallet. She shook her wrist so the small torch would fall out of her sleeve where she’d hidden it, and played its dim beam around, but she saw absolutely nothing, not even cobwebs.
“Does your friend need help rising?” the operator asked rather irritably.
“Probably,” Nrrna said in intimate pitch, trying to stall. “Her balance is very poor. Hayumans have weak inner ears.”
“I had noticed that their ears are abnormally small,” he said, and came round to help Kelly to her feet. She feigned momentary weakness before she met Nrrna’s eyes over the boxes and gave a shake to her head.
“Thank you, sir,” she said to the operator, reaching out suddenly to grab his arm, swaying in a fashion that alarmed him. “My balance is none too good.”
That had given Nrrna sufficient time to look underneath on her side. But she shook her head, too.
“Is this all we’re supposed to get today?” Nrrna asked, checking over the number of boxes on her board. “I am missing several cartons.”
He leaned over to examine her list. “No, you do not have all. Those sizes have to be broken down into two shipments. Second lot will come through in”—he paused to check his own schedule—“two hours. A shipment of ore from one of the mining worlds is due in next. Come back.”
“Very well,” Nrrna said, masking her relief in a cool response, “I will accompany this lot to the Health Center. Will you stay on the island and wait for the rest?” she asked Kelly.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ve got a few things I can do while I wait. See you in the village.” Kelly threw a good-luck gesture to Nrrna.
Once the characteristic mist rose around the crates and Nrrna, whisking them from sight, Kelly left the reception area. As she departed, she heard the operator’s audible sigh of relief.
She’d been to the Treaty Island often enough to know the general layout, which was another reason why she had the best chance of accomplishing her second, and possibly more important, errand. But she stopped for a long moment to reread the inaugural plaque outside the main administration building.
“This Treaty Center was constructed in the fourth year of the Colony by the people of Hrruba, Earth, and Doona/Rrala in the spirit of cooperation represented by the Treaty of Doona.”
Kelly felt a tingle of pride and renewed determination that the colony world, the turning point in the histories of both civilizations, would not become a future battleground. She knew where the Councillors’ quarters were but she didn’t want to blunder into the Controller’s rooms if he was present. From the look of so many lights in the low Administration Building, there might be late meetings that would solve that problem.
She strode right up to the information desk where two Humans and a Hrruban, wearing official guide badges, were drinking malak.
“I’ve a message for the Treaty Controller,” she said brightly, addressing all three.
One of the Humans peered at a list on the desk. “He should still be in the Council chamber. They’ve got an all-day session. Back the way you came and around the corner to the right at the T-junction.”
“Oh! But I was told to take it to him at his personal quarters, sir.”
The guide exchanged a glance with the other two. “Well, they’d be due for a break soon.” He pointed out the glass door facing the desk. “Across the courtyard there, and along the garden walk. Treaty Controller’s apartment is the last on the right.”
“Thank you so much,” Kelly said, and followed the directions, swinging her arms and striding off as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Several blocks on the left of the Administration Building housed visitors to the island, mostly researchers there to consult the ever-increasing Archives. To the right were the residences assigned to members of the Treaty Council. Each species, Hayuman and Hrruban, sent three delegates to the Council. Of those three, one was chosen from the species’ homeworld, one from Doona/Rrala, and the third could be from either of those or from a colony world. The seventh member, the Treaty Controller, was nominated every three years in turn from the Hayuman or Hrruban side. Most frequently the Councillors were justiciars by profession.
The seven apartments were actually small detached houses abutting the formal garden and maintained by Treaty staff. Kelly followed the row to the end and found the modest home of the Treaty Controller. Swallowing her nervousness, she slipped through the gate and approached the door, which was shaded by a stand of fringed palms. It wasn’t just the tropical sun that was making Kelly sweat. She had no idea what excuse she could give if the Controller should find her here.
Following the spirit of openness and trust fostered on Doona, nothing was locked. Doors had fastenings and fences with strong latches to keep animals from wandering in or out. Irreplaceables and valuables were locked up safely out of sight, but few residences on Treaty Island were ever secured. She hoped the Treaty Controller, not known for his acceptance of Doonan traditions, followed the local custom.
The door opened without resistance.
“Sir?” she called out tentatively. There was no answer, and indeed, as she stepped inside, the apartment had the silence of an uninhabited space. Gently she pushed the door almost shut. She ought to hear footsteps on the shell-lined walk.
The Treaty Controller lived in style. The fine green carpet was deep and soft, and took footprints all too easily. Her sandals made smaller impressions in it than slender Hrruban feet would. Would the nap spring up to erase her inward path? Or would he notice? His furnishings were lavishly decorated and suited to Hrruban anatomy. Not a single Hayuman-style chair or stool. The walls were hung with warmly colored Hrruban tapestries. All manner of Rralan-made crafts were displayed in wall niches and on small stone-to
pped pedestals, presents from Hrruban villages on the planet. Grudgingly she admitted that the old tom had good taste, but the furnishings also afforded numerous hiding places for the document box she sought.
As the tapestries were fastened to the wall from rods on a picture rail, she could look beneath them and tap the bright orange-dyed rla wall for hollow places. She found nothing and was examining the walls in the sleeping chamber when she heard the front door swing open and bounce against its hinges.
She froze and listened, hearing with great relief the sighing of a breeze. She tiptoed back to the door and peered around the corner, trying to keep out of sight. Someone stared right at her. Shocked and still in a half-crouch, Kelly stared back. But it wasn’t the Treaty Controller. It was a small, coffee-skinned Hayuman with gray hair twisted into a coronet on her head. A Councillor’s robe was slung casually over one arm.
“Who ... who are you?” Kelly asked meekly.
“I was going to ask you the very same question, girl,” the woman replied in a stern voice. “I thought the wind had blown the door open but I see he has a snooper going through his possessions. A thief on Treaty Island itself! Disgraceful! Give me your name this instant and your business here.”
“Please, Madam Dupuis,” for Kelly recognized her, “I’m not stealing anything. I’m Kelly Solinari of First Hayuman Village and I’m trying to help Todd Reeve.”
“In the Controller’s bedroom?” Madam Dupuis’s eyebrows rose in amused query. “He doesn’t like Hayumans, you know.”
“Don’t I just!” Sensing a sympathetic relaxation of the Councillor’s disapproval, Kelly decided the truth would do her more good than any invention. So she summarized her illegal return to Earth and approaching Inspector DeVeer for assistance, and how she had overheard mention of a very special document box from Hrruba anxiously awaited by the Treaty Controller. “We’ve got Todd and Hrriss cleared of one charge,” and Madam Dupuis nodded, so Kelly didn’t bother to explain other matters of which the Councillor would have more intimate knowledge than she did. “But it’s more than just an attempt to ruin the Treaty, Madam Dupuis. We think it’s a conspiracy between certain Hayuman and Hrruban elements that might lead”—this was the hardest part to say aloud—“might lead to an interspecies war ...” Madam Dupuis’s hand went to her throat and her complexion paled noticeably. “A war that is meant to leave only one species on Doona and only one dominant species in the known galaxy.“
Madam Dupuis regarded her for a very long moment with eyes dulled with sorrow.
“I fear you may be right, Kelly Solinari, though I have not had the courage to admit it to myself. I have always known that our current Controller was one of Third Speaker’s nominees, but he has, until recently, been scrupulously fair in his judgments during our negotiations.” She bowed her head for a long moment, her hand idly stroking her robe. “I have suspected a subtle alteration in his mien. You don’t live for twelve years in close contact with someone, even of another species, and not notice”—her fingers flickered—“little things. I’ve wondered about his much-vaunted impartiality, but then,” and she gave Kelly a rueful grin, “mine has been slipping somewhat, too. With all of my heart I want Doona to remain as it is.” Her manner altered abruptly. “It is extraordinary behavior for a born and bred Doonan to break and enter, but if you can keep it to yourself and can find what you seek, I shall forget I’ve seen you.”
“You will?” Kelly couldn’t believe her escape.
“Hmm,” Madam Dupuis murmured in an absent fashion. “I just came over to shut his door. I had noticed that the wind must have blown it ajar. Surprising how strong the breeze can be when the temperature starts to fall at this time of day.” She started back to the door then turned, hand on the knob. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”
Kelly shook her head. “I only just got here.”
“Then for the sake of us all, find it,” she said in a voice of command. “I’d help you myself because I believe you have seen the true reason behind all this maneuvering. I’ve got a boondoggle that I’ve been waiting to raise before the copies of the Treaty are written up. A Human outpost on Hrruba, similar to the facility Hrringa occupies on Earth. I want to see equal treatment for our species, but it’s a sticking point I haven’t been able to maneuver that old tomcat past. That should make a good long point to argue. I will make certain that you have an hour to search, but that is all I can hope to extend the argument. His patience isn’t infinite. Will that suffice?”
“It will have to,” Kelly said, her tone expressing her intense gratitude for understanding and assistance.
Just as Madam Dupuis was about to close the door behind her, she added, “If you need a haven, my office is on the first floor above the commissary.” Then she closed the door firmly behind her.
The first thing Kelly did was to look about the sleeping quarters for a hiding place for herself. The heavy curtains would do and they gave onto a small shrub-lined yard but the bushes would be nothing for her to scale.
His closets yielded nothing except that the Controller was a fastidious person, for everything was neatly hung and arranged in outfits for lounging, public appearances, and ceremonial receptions. Nothing among the films and flimsies in his desk looked like official documents or reports. She read Hrruban, High, Low, and Middle, but a quick scan told her there was nothing incriminating in the drawers.
The communications unit was like any other on Doona or Earth, with no place for concealment in, on, or under the console. Brushing her hands on her legs to dry nervous perspiration, she started on the other furnishings.
She was halfway through her hour’s dispensation when she found her prize. The document box was hidden underneath the last drawer in the bedroom bureau. The Treaty Controller had sawn out and removed half of the supporting board under the drawer, leaving a large hiding place accessible without turning the heavy chest over. Kelly drew the box out and rested it on her knees.
It was a very ordinary document box, like any other used for conveying official papers back and forth between offices. Kelly had seen, and handled, dozens like it at Alreldep. She hefted it: light, couldn’t be much inside. But then she didn’t need much, only the right sort of document.
She examined the lock and here the resemblance to ordinary courier boxes ended. It was fitted with a custom lock intended to discourage unauthorized entry. The lock was flat, but a glance inside the keyhole with her tiny torch showed that it was made to accept a key with multiple wards each as narrow as a strand of hair. Box in hand, she looked about the room for something she could use to manipulate the lock. She found a straight pin but it was no use. She didn’t dare try to force the box or break it open and her time was nearly up.
She started to put the box back into its place of concealment, but stopped when she noticed the remains of an official seal on the untied tapes that dangled from the sides of the container. It reminded her of something, and the memory tickled at the back of her mind. She had seen a seal used by the High Council of Speakers of Hrruba. This one was a lot like it, but not as complex. Using the point of a pin and an old scrap of film she found in a wastebin, she copied down as much of the seal as she could.
Madam Dupuis’s gift of an uninterrupted hour was definitely over. Not daring to try the lock any longer lest she be caught there fiddling with it when the Treaty Controller returned, Kelly put the box away and replaced the drawer.
On her knees, she backed out of the room, fluffing up the woolly carpet with her hands. At the door, she stopped, and tried to remember if there was anything she had left open or out of place. No, she had been thorough, if unsuccessful.
“There,” she said. “I hope he doesn’t check for fingerprints.”
Striding with as much nonchalance as she could, Kelly made her way to the research quarters where she knew Hrruvula was quartered for the hearings. Without explaining her presence or her occupation the pas
t hour, she showed him her drawing of the seal. He gave her a startled glance and peered at it closely. When she opened her mouth to explain, he held up his hand, his eyes dark and inscrutable.
“You are not my client, Kelly Solinari, so anything you might wish to impart to me would not be done under the cloak of confidentiality,” he said, still studying the scrap of film. “You have not been here. We have not talked of anything, especially about a replica of the private insignia of the Third Speaker.”
He handed it back to her, gestured politely for her to exit as quickly as she had entered, and turned his back on her.
She left Hrruvula’s office at a trot, heading for the transport grid. So that was it! The Treaty Controller was, against all the precepts of his current position, actively collaborating with his sponsor to prevent the renewal of the Treaty! She hoped the evidence Dalkey had found was indeed on the next shipment. There wouldn’t be another medical shipment for weeks, and by then Doona might be just a memory. The thought scared her so much she ran all the way back to the grid station.
* * *
The grid operator transferred Kelly and the remaining pallet directly to the transport station in First Village. She all but fell off the platform into Todd’s waiting arms and let him sustain the embrace to restore her self-confidence. Hrriss watched the salutation with glowing eyes, Nrrna beside him, delicate hands nervously clasped together.
“It’s here,” Kelly said excitedly, thrusting the dark gray envelope into their hands. “He came through. I just love Dalkey. He did it.”
Todd eagerly opened the packet which contained a sheaf of printouts, folded neatly in half. To the top a note in Dalkey’s precise, impersonal handwriting was attached, which Todd read aloud. “None of these account numbers Earth-based. Good luck. D.” Todd’s fingers fumbled as he opened the sheets and glanced quickly through them. “He’s done it. We’ve got it!”
Crisis On Doona Page 29
