Odd Girl Out

'Exactly,' McMicking said. 'Obviously, the fact that Veldrick got it in implies the local Customs officials are pretty casual about that sort of thing. But there's no guarantee one of them might not suddenly get all virtuous and law-abiding.'

'Especially now that someone like Hardin is sitting in the crosshairs?' I suggested.

McMicking shrugged slightly. 'Mr. Hardin has his detractors,' he said diplomatically. 'Regardless, things obviously couldn't be allowed to remain as they were.'

'So Mr. Hardin sent you here to destroy it?' Bayta asked.

'I wish it was that simple,' McMicking said ruefully. 'But you know Mr. Hardin. Well, you don't. But Frank does.'

'All too well,' I agreed. I'd briefly worked for Larry Hardin some months back, having been hired to find a way for him to take over the Quadrail system from the Spiders. Our relationship had ended abruptly when I told him it couldn't be done, and then proceeded to blackmail him out of a trillion dollars. The money had gone for a good cause, but Hardin didn't know that. 'And I know Mr. Hardin didn't get to be a multimillionaire by burning up valuable assets,' I continued. 'A cubic meter of Modhran coral represents, what, about half a million?'

'You're behind the times, friend,' McMicking said. 'Try about eight million.'

I goggled. 'Dollars?'

'Or more,' McMicking said. 'Between you drying up the supply on Modhra I and your friend Fayr busy blowing up the Bellidosh Estates-General's current supply, the price has gone through the roof.'

'Hence, you?' I asked.

'Hence, me,' McMicking agreed. 'My job is to get the coral out of Veldrick's house, off the planet, onto the Quadrail, and to a buyer Mr. Hardin's trying to set up.'

I exhaled loudly. 'Terrific.'

'I'm not any happier about it than you are,' McMicking said grimly. 'All alternative plans will be cheerfully considered. But any such plan absolutely has to start with getting Veldrick's coral off New Tigris.'

'Understood,' I said, frowning as I visualized Veldrick's meditation room. Something wasn't quite right here. 'Well, the bad news is that he now knows—or suspects, anyway—that Hardin's about to lower the boom on him. You might have given me a heads-up on this before I left Manhattan.'

'I would have if I'd known about it,' McMicking said. 'You remember me saying Mr. Hardin was about to give me a special assignment? This was it.'

'So how did you get here ahead of me?' I asked. 'I thought my shuttle and torchliner were the first ones out.'

'Eight million dollars can make a man impatient,' McMicking said with a touch of humor. 'Mr. Hardin had a private shuttle and torchyacht waiting for me after my briefing. Much faster than commercial travel. I've actually been poking around here a couple of days now.'

'Ah,' I said. 'At any rate, that's the bad news. The good news is that he thinks Bayta and I are the ones here to do it. Ergo, he's going to be keeping his beady little eyes on us, not middle-aged joggers.'

'Well, that's something, anyway,' McMicking said.

'Unless someone reports we were together tonight,' Bayta warned.

'Not a problem,' McMicking assured her. 'I won't be wearing this particular face again.'

'Wait a second,' I said as the nagging feeling suddenly fell into place. 'You said Hardin's rep reported a cubic meter of coral?'

'About that, yes,' McMicking confirmed. 'All in Veldrick's meditation room?'

'Again, yes,' McMicking said. 'Why?'

I grimaced. 'Because at least a third of it isn't there anymore.'

For a long moment McMicking stared at and through me, his eyes narrowed. 'Interesting,' he said at last, his voice casual. 'So Mr. Veldrick's decided to be awkward about this. I don't suppose you were given a tour of the whole house?'

'No, just the great room, the meditation room, and the guest suite,' I said. 'But just shifting it around the house hardly seems worth the effort.'

'But he did say Modhran coral helps grease the wheels of commercial enterprise,' Bayta offered. 'Maybe that means he's given out pieces as gifts.'

'More likely as bribes,' I said. 'He also went out of his way to mention it worked especially well on non- Humans.'

'Clever little man,' McMicking mused. 'A fair percentage of those offworlders will have diplomatic immunity. Even those who don't are probably covered by trade agreements that limit what local law enforcement can do to them.'

'He was probably hoping to scatter most of his collection around Imani City before Hardin made his move,' I said.

'With the expectation that he would get at least some of it back at a future date,' McMicking agreed. 'When his friends at Customs reported Frank Donaldson of Hardin Industries had arrived, he must have been rather annoyed.'

'Hence, the invitation to visit his home and see if I reacted with the proper displeasure to his coral,' I said. 'I wonder what his next move will be.'

McMicking's eyes flicked over my shoulder. 'I think we're about to find out.'

I turned around in my seat. Two Imani City policemen were striding through the restaurant toward us. 'You armed?' I murmured to McMicking.

'Of course,' he said. 'But let's not be hasty.'

They came to our table and stopped. 'Mr. Frank Donaldson?' the taller one asked.

'Yes,' I said. 'Is there a problem?'

'I'm afraid so, sir, yes,' the cop said. 'I'm Sergeant Aksam; this is Officer Lasari. Would you mind coming with us, please?'

'Why?' I asked, making no move to get up.

Aksam glanced around at the restaurant's other patrons. Most of them, I noted, were staring back at us with the morbid fascination people always have for the objects of police interest. 'I think this would be handled more pleasantly back at the station,' he said, lowering his voice a bit.

'I doubt it,' I said. 'The seats here are really quite comfortable. Shall I ask the waiter to bring you a couple?'

His face darkened. 'Fine,' he growled, raising his voice back to its original level and then some. If I was going to insist on embarrassing myself in public, he was going to make sure I did it right. 'Frank Donaldson, you're under suspicion of associating with known criminals. Now stand up, please.'

'Which known criminals are these?' McMicking spoke up.

Aksam flashed him a look. 'This doesn't concern you, sir,' he said warningly.

'Oh, I think it does,' McMicking said calmly, holding up an ID. 'My name's Joseph Prescott. I'm Mr. Donaldson's legal advisor.'

Years of playing poker against fellow Westali agents allowed me to keep my bland expression in place as McMicking's verbal grenade rolled into the center of the conversation. Beside me, Bayta stirred but didn't speak, and I had no doubt her own face was equally unreadable.

Aksam wasn't nearly that good. From the way his eyes momentarily widened I guessed that the last thing he'd expected on this little outing was to have to explain himself to a lawyer.

I was rather looking forward to this.

'Well?' McMicking prompted.

Aksam found his tongue. 'Mr. Donaldson met this afternoon with a bartender in Zumurrud District named Usamah Karim,' he said. 'Mr. Karim has a criminal record.'

'What sort of record?' McMicking asked. 'Overcharging for stale pretzels? Watering the drinks?'

'Selling to minors and obstruction of justice,' Aksam shot back.

'Really,' McMicking said calmly. 'What sort of obstruction?'

Aksam threw a hooded glance around the restaurant. Clearly, this wasn't going the way he'd expected it to. 'Mr. Karim's record is not the issue here.'

'On the contrary,' McMicking said. 'If Mr. Donaldson is accused of consorting with criminals, the criminality of