The Third Lynx

'And then what?' Bayta asked. 'What if she doesn't know where Mr. Stafford is?'

'Let's play this one move at a time, okay?' I said, a smoothly evasive way of saying I didn't have the foggiest idea. 'Once you've got that in the works, see how fast you can get us moving after her.'

Bayta's eyes defocused. 'There's a local leaving in forty minutes, or an express leaving in two hours. Both of them stop at both Homshil and Jurskala.'

'Let's try for the express,' I told her. 'Three first-class seats.'

'You don't want a double compartment for us?'

'Homshil's less than a day away by express,' I reminded her. 'Hardly seems worth tying up two compartments for.'

'I'd rather we had compartments.'

I shrugged. 'Fine. Whatever you want.'

'Thank you.' She paused. 'By the way, Mr. Kunstler didn't exactly say he trusted you,' she said. 'He said 'he hates you.' '

'Which is something we should probably avoid mentioning to Morse,' I warned. 'In case you hadn't noticed, he's the only one around who makes no bones about the fact that he hates me.'

Bayta glanced over her shoulder. 'You have any idea why?'

'I wish I did,' I said. 'Maybe I was part of some Westali operation that stepped on ESS toes.'

But deep down, I knew that wasn't it. Morse's antagonism was way more personal than just misplaced professional rivalry.

Maybe there was a way to find out. 'Can you get the Spiders to encode a message and send it to Earth?' I asked Bayta.

'If it's simple enough,' Bayta said. 'They'd prefer you to go to the message center and do it yourself.'

'I'd rather not be seen at the message center right now,' I told her. 'Too many people might notice and wonder who I'm writing notes to. I just want a simple message sent to Losutu: 'Verify Ackerley Morse's bona fides—reply via Spiders.' Sign my name and send it.'

'I suppose they can do that,' Bayta said, a little doubtfully.

There was the sound of footsteps behind us, and I turned to see Morse hurrying down the corridor. 'No need to rush,' I called. 'We've got your seat.'

His expression darkened. 'I told you not to do that,' he growled. 'You're not coming with me.'

'No, you're coming with us,' I clarified for him. 'At least, if you want to catch up with Penny Auslander before she gets to Ian-apof.'

His eyes narrowed. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'We're getting her pulled off the train at either Homshil or Jurskala.' I told him. 'Our train—'

'You're getting her pulled off?'

'Our train leaves in two hours,' I went on, ignoring the question. 'That gives us all time to get something to eat and compare notes a little.'

For another few seconds Morse continued to eye me. Then, his lip twitched. 'You've already seen most of my notes,' he said. 'And I don't especially care about yours. You really booked me a seat?'

'The ticket can be picked up at the stationmaster's office,' Bayta said.

'You're not on this case,' Morse warned. 'This is official EuroUnion business, and you aren't involved in any way, shape, or form. Make very sure you understand that.'

'We're just on the way to meet up with a friend,' I said, stifling a sigh. There was something about Morse's attitude that was just plain tiring. 'We just happen to be traveling on the same train as you, that's all.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Imagine that,' he said in mock surprise. 'Frank Compton actually has a friend.'

With that, he brushed past me and strode through the lobby to the exit. A moment later, he was gone.

I turned back to find Bayta gazing at me, a look of compassion on her face. 'What?' I demanded. I didn't need friends, I certainly didn't need Morse, and the last thing I wanted right now was sympathy.

Fortunately for her. she got the message. 'Nothing,' she said, her expression going back to its usual neutral.

'Good,' I growled. 'The stationmaster get that message encoded?'

'It'll go out on the next scheduled laser transmission to Earth.'

'Good,' I said again. 'I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat.' I started us toward the door, putting my hand in my side pocket as I walked.

And stopped. 'Well, well,' I said. 'What?' Bayta asked.

'Clever,' I said, feeling my stomach tighten. No wonder I'd gotten away so easily with picking that Halka's pocket.

'What's clever?' Bayta asked.

'The Modhri,' I said, pulling my hand out of my pocket. 'I'd been wondering where I got my newly improved pickpocket skills. Now I know. Turns out the Modhri didn't actually care about Morse's ultrasecret ESS reading material after all.

'The data chip with Fayr's message.' I opened up my empty hand. 'It's gone.'

EIGHT :

Morse was waiting at the platform when we arrived there an hour and a half later. Our Quadrail was visible in the distance, the red glow of the laserlike beams flashing between the train's front bumper and the Coreline and turning the Coreline's already impressive light show into something frighteningly manic. The lasers winked out, the train angled down the Tube's sloping side into the wider section that was the station, and a few minutes later it rolled to a brake-squealing halt beside us.

Our double compartment was, as usual, in the first car behind the engine. Morse's seat was three cars back, just behind the first-class dining car.

Bayta and I stayed close to home during the trip, emerging from our compartments only for meals, to stretch our legs, and occasionally to check on Morse. As far as I could tell, he too seemed to be keeping mostly to himself in the midst of all that noisy first-class camaraderie.

I made a couple of attempts to wheedle the other data chip out of him, the one that had been hidden in his pocket. But it was a waste of effort. Now that he was finally on the Quadrail and had Bayta's assurance that we could link him up with Penny and her friends, he wasn't making even an effort to be civil to me anymore.

I spent the rest of my limited time outside my compartment eyeing the other first-class passengers and wondering which of them might be walkers. That was even more of a waste of effort. As long as the Modhri colony inside a person stayed dormant, there was no way, barring serious micro-level surgery, to know it was in there.

Twenty-one hours after leaving Terra, precisely on time, we pulled into Homshil Station.

Most Quadrail stations carried between ten and forty sets of tracks, spaced more or less evenly around the inside of the Tube. Homshil was different. Though its main purpose was to provide service to the Jurian colony world of Homshiltristia, it also happened to be one of the fifty or sixty node points in the Quadrail system where the Spiders had brought several different lines together. One of the most important was a set of cross-galaxy tracks that headed out of our spiral arm entirely and traversed a wide swath of relatively empty space before skirting the edge of the galactic core and Fibibib space and heading across to the Pirkarli, Shorshian, and Filiaelian territories in the other spiral arm. For anyone traveling to those empires, shifting lines at Homshil could cut two or more weeks off their transit time.

As a result, Homshil carried a lot of traffic, and the Spiders had built accordingly. The station was half again bigger than the usual Quadrail station's diameter, with no fewer than sixty sets of tracks running along the floor. Between the platforms were dozens of restaurants, shops, waiting areas, and three full-service hotels for travelers who wanted to take a break before continuing their journeys. The stationmaster's office had been expanded into a