The Third Lynx

with the courier's regular stuff? I hoped not. Opening and digging through someone's luggage in pitch-darkness wasn't something I really wanted to try.

But there was one other possibility. Using the sound of the Juri's breathing to orient myself, I eased my fingertips toward the spot where his chest ought to be.

There it was: a leather carrying bag, about the size of the late Mr. Gerashchenko's lugeboard case, gripped in the Juri's arms like a child's beloved stuffed animal.

I smiled tightly in the darkness. With the sleeper's arms wrapped around it, the bag would be nearly impossible to steal or open. Even if the Modhran colony was sleeping or otherwise unaware of his surroundings, a disturbance on that scale would surely startle both him and the walker himself awake.

But as I'd told Morse, I wasn't here to steal anything.

My reader was already tricked out into its sensor mode. Pulling it out, I started moving it slowly and deliberately down the side of the bag, a centimeter or so above the leather.

'Compton,' the Juri murmured.

I froze. The sleeper hadn't stirred, and the word had come out with a definite slurring to it. Was the Juri talking in his sleep? Setting my teeth, I got the scanner moving again.

'Compton,' the mumbled word came again. 'Give me the Lynx.'

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck begin to tingle. This wasn't anyone's sleep-talk. The Modhri was talking to me. 'I don't have it,' I murmured.

'Find it,' the Modhri said. 'Give it to me. Then you may retire in safety and wealth.'

'Thanks for the offer,' I said, forcing myself to continue moving the scanner in the same slow and steady motion. Maybe in the darkness the Modhri didn't realize what I was doing. But whether he did or not, it was for damn sure that I wasn't going to get a second crack at this. 'I'll think about it.'

'Bring me the Lynx,' he repeated. The Juri gave a little sigh and readjusted his shoulders before settling down again.

Conversation over, apparently. I finished the scan and shut down the reader. Then, just out of curiosity, I reached to the top end of the bag and got a grip on it.

The sleeping Juri stiffened, his arms tightening reflexively around his prize. But he didn't wake up; and I, for my part, wasn't interested in pushing the Modhri any farther than I already had. Letting go of the bag, I backed carefully across the compartment. As I slipped through the opening, I felt Bayta reach around behind me and touch the control, and the wall slid shut again.

'I heard voices,' she whispered tensely in my ear. 'Was that you?'

'Later,' I said, taking her hand and leading her back to the door.

We were sitting in our chairs watching the dit rec comedy playing on the nearest display window when Morse and a disappointed-looking Juri consul headed through on their way back to the compartment car.

TWELVE :

We waited another half hour, just to make sure everything had settled down. Then, once again retreating to the bar, we examined the sensor record.

And found nothing.

'What the bloody hell is this?' Morse demanded, frowning at the reader screen. 'This your idea of a joke?'

'Hardly' I said. I hadn't wanted him along, but he'd insisted, and after his help I couldn't really refuse him. 'Or if it is, it's being played on the universe at large. We're talking one very interesting object here.'

'No, we're talking one very harmless carrybag,' Morse retorted, dropping the reader back on the table. 'Unless you're going to tell me these Nemuti sculptures can morph into brocade dressing robes?'

I spread my hands helplessly. 'What can I say? All the signs pointed to the Hawk being in there.'

Morse snorted. 'And here I always thought it was the Yandro fiasco that got you kicked out of Westali.'

'Meaning?' I asked, feeling a stirring of anger.

'You're the big clever Yank detective—you figure it out.' Abruptly he stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, we're due into Ian-apof in an hour and I have to make sure Ms. Auslander's packed and ready to go.' He strode out of the bar and headed forward.

I watched him go, then turned to Bayta. 'Well?' I invited.

'Well what?' she said. Her eyes were troubled, but there was none of the contempt or disappointment in her face that Morse had just spilled out onto the table. 'The sensor must have failed.'

I shook my head. 'I've already run a self-test. The sensor was working perfectly.'

'Then where is the Hawk?'

'It's in the Juri's bag, right where we expected it to be,' I told her. 'Before I left the compartment I got a grip on the bag, just to see what the Modhri's reaction would be, and I could feel something hard and solid in there. Something that felt very much like the slightly bulbous tip of the Hawk that we saw in the pictures.'

Bayta craned her neck to look at the reader's display again. 'I don't see that at all.'

'Neither did the sensor,' I said grimly. 'Apparently, the Hawk and its brother sculptures are sensor transparent.'

She looked up at me, her eyes widening. 'They're what? How can that be possible?'

'I have no idea,' I said. 'Actually, no, let me back up a little. The Hawk's not simply invisible—if it was, there'd be a hole in the middle of the sensor image. It's more like a sensor chameleon, something that takes on and mimics the characteristics of its surroundings.'

'But then how can we see it and take pictures of it?' she protested. 'Visible light is just another part of the electromagnetic spectrum; like infrared and radar.'

'How can we see through ordinary glass while it still blocks ultraviolet and some infrared?' I countered. 'Like I said, I have no idea how it's done. Especially since sitting alone all by itself the Hawk must look like something on a sensor scan. Otherwise, they sure wouldn't have been relegated to the status of third-rate folk art.'

Bayta lowered her eyes to the display again, and I could see in her expression that she was starting to work through the serious implications of this whole thing.

Because Unpleasant Theory Number One had just been kicked out of the lineup. Whatever the Modhri wanted with these sculptures, it wasn't a simple trade of exotic but ordinary artwork for a new homeland site. The Nemuti sculptures were either a weird material 'a' la Unpleasant Theory Number Two, or something even worse.

And with their self-generating cloak of sort-of invisibility, even the Spiders' massive and wide-ranging Tube station sensor system might not have a hope in hell of spotting them.

Bayta was obviously thinking the same thing. 'The Spiders can't detect them,' she murmured. 'The Modhri can take them anywhere he wants.'

'That's the bad news,' I agreed. 'The good news is that he apparently still needs the third Lynx to make his plan work.'

'How do you know?'

'Because he offered to let me retire in peace if I got it for him.'

Bayta's eyes were steady on me. Possibly she was remembering that the Chahwyn were basically forcing me into retirement anyway. 'What did you tell him?'

'That I'd think about it,' I said. 'It seemed the safest thing to say.'

'But he'll be watching you.'

'Me and everyone else,' I agreed. 'Especially Morse and Penny and the rest of Penny's friends.'

Bayta grimaced. 'Who are going to lead him right to Mr. Stafford.'

I looked around the bar. None of the other patrons was within hearing distance of us. 'Hardly,' I said, lowering