The Domino Pattern

I looked at Bayta, then at Witherspoon. then at Aronobal …and there was something in the Filly doctor’s eyes that warned there were indeed penalties for reneging on such a promise. “If it’s within my power,” I said, looking back at Givvrac, “I will.”

His eyes closed, and he gave a microscopic nod. “Then will honor and justice be served,” he murmured.

Five minutes later, he was dead.

TEN

“Hold still,” Witherspoon ordered as he gently pulled on the back of my right ear and eased the tip of his viewer into the labyrinth within.

“You just watch where you’re poking that thing.” I warned, wincing as his touch sent my ears’ background throbbing onto a new and more exciting rhythm.

“Courage. Compton,” Kennrick admonished, glancing around the otherwise deserted first-class bar as he took a sip of his brandy.

Normally this sort of examination would have been held in the dispensary. But the dispensary was more than a little crowded at the moment. Besides, the dispensary didn’t serve brandy, which Kennrick apparently liked a lot.

It also didn’t serve yogurt, which I didn’t like at all, but which my gut badly needed to help replenish its supply of helpful bacteria. “I’m saving my courage for when he pokes something in your ear,” I told Kennrick, taking a last bite and setting my spoon on the table beside my empty bowl.

“In that case, feel free to yell in agony,” Kennrick said agreeably.

“I never scream in front of the help,” I said, gesturing toward the server standing a couple of paces behind Witherspoon. The Spider, I knew, was here to keep an eye on Witherspoon’s medical bag.

Kennrick, I was pretty sure, was here to keep an eye on me.

Witherspoon let go of my ear. “Other side, please,” he instructed.

I swiveled my chair around, putting my back to Kennrick and the table. “We have got to be the saddest lot of travelers in Quadrail history,” Kennrick mused as Witherspoon dug his viewer into my other throbbing ear. “Give us a drum and a couple of fifes and we’d be right at home in a Western Alliance historical painting.”

“It’s worse back in the dispensary,” I reminded him.

“They were included in my list,” he said, his voice grim. “Damn it all. I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“You mean the fact that your contract team is falling over like dominoes?” I asked.

“And the fact that the Spiders haven’t lifted a leg to stop it.” he growled. “I thought they were supposed to keep weapons off their damn trains.”

“What weapons?” I countered. “Like you said earlier, cadmium’s found in any number of gadgets used all over the galaxy. And people bring antiseptic sprays onto Quadrails all the time.”

“Sprays strong enough to penetrate all the way into Filiaelians intestines?”

“I’ll admit that’s a new one.” I conceded. “The point remains that up to now nothing that’s been used has qualified as a standard weapon.”

“They’re supposed to screen for nonstandard weapons, too,” Kennrick growled. “You about done there, Doc?”

“Almost.” Witherspoon said. “And I think our energies would be better spent in figuring out how we can prevent this from happening again instead of trying to assign blame.”

“Hear, hear,” I said. “Actually, that’s the main reason I wanted the two of you here while Dr. Witherspoon checked me over. I thought it was about time we all had a nice quiet conversation together.”

“You wanted me here?” Kennrick asked. “The conductor said it was Dr. Witherspoon who sent for me.”

“It was,” I agreed. “A quiet conversation is the reason I let him do it. Doc? What’s the verdict?”

“No permanent damage that I can see,” Witherspoon reported, putting the viewer back into his bag and pulling out a packet of QuixHeals. “But both your eardrums are going to be tender for a while.” He grimaced, his fingers digging briefly beneath his shirt collar to gingerly touch the back of his neck. “As will your neck,” he added. “A few days on QuixHeals and you should be mostly back to normal.”

“So what did you want to talk about?” Kennrick asked.

“Obviously, what’s been going on aboard this train,” I said. “Dr. Witherspoon has a theory.”

The sudden change in conversational direction caught Witherspoon by surprise. “I do?” he asked, sounding bewildered.

“Of course,” I said. “You think I did it.” It was Kennrick’s turn to be caught flatfooted. “You?” he demanded.

“That’s right,” I said, watching Witherspoon closely. Under our dual gaze, he was starting to look a little squirmy. “Di-Master Strinni may have died with his hands making the sign-language symbols for F and C. Dr. Witherspoon thinks they’re my initials.”

“Ridiculous,” Kennrick said. “Sorry, Doc, but it’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” Witherspoon countered. “We know nothing about Mr. Compton. Who he is, who he’s working for, or what he’s doing on this train.”

“He’s annoyed that I pointed out he’d been with two of the victims before they died.” I stage-whispered to Kennrick. “Actually, with Givvrac, we’re now up to three out of four.”

“And who knows how many of them you dealt with?” Witherspoon shot back. “You or your Spider friends.”

“Easy, Doc,” Kennrick soothed. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. Whatever Mr. Compton is now, what he was was Western Alliance Intelligence.”

Witherspoon drew back a little, his eyes narrowing. “Westali?”

“That’s right,” I confirmed.

“You know this for a fact?” Witherspoon asked.

“I do,” Kennrick confirmed.

“How?”

A muscle twitched in Kennrick’s cheek. “He was—”

“I was involved in an operation at the law office where he was working a few years ago,” I jumped in.

Witherspoon’s wary look shifted to Kennrick. “Was Mr. Kennrick the target?” he asked pointedly.

“No,” I said. It was mostly true. “And to answer your next question, I left the service voluntarily.” That was also mostly true, though I certainly wouldn’t have volunteered to resign if I hadn’t been pressured to do so. “I can give you references, if you still want to check up on me after we reach Venidra Carvo. Won’t do you much good right now, though.”

“I’ll get the list from you later,” Witherspoon said, visibly relaxing a bit. “Did di- Master Strinni know about your history? Is that why he left us your initials?”

“We don’t even know that they were initials, let alone mine,” I reminded him. “They could have stood for First Class, Fried Chicken, or even Feeling Crappy. If he knew Human sign language at all, which we still haven’t established.”

“It’s not impossible,” Kennrick said. “I’ve seen a number of non-Humans using Human sign language over the years. Business people especially—some companies like to have a way of communicating in private across crowded rooms. I don’t know about di-Master Strinni specifically, though.”

“Maybe Master Tririn will know,” I said. “In the meantime, now that my pedigree’s been established, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I’ve got one of my own first,” Kennrick said. “Are you operating under the authority of the Spiders on this?”

“They’ve asked me to investigate the deaths, yes,” I said.

“Is this a one-time thing, or does your association with them predate this particular trip?” he persisted. “The reason I ask is because Pellorian Medical’s policy is to always cooperate with the authorities, even if that