The Domino Pattern

unusual it was for me to have found a gap in her otherwise encyclopedic knowledge of the galaxy. “It creates enough range in the Shorshic vocal apparatus to allow them to speak languages other than their own.”

“Oh,” she said, her face clearing. “You mean the Kilfiriaso Operation.”

“Ah …right,” I said, feeling slightly deflated. Not only did she know about the operation, she even knew its real name. “I don’t know how fast Shorshians heal, but I do know that the Gibber Operation isn’t supposed to leave any permanent scars. The fact that we can still see something implies the work must have been done fairly recently.”

Bayta frowned at me. “You mean it was done on Earth?”

“So it would seem,” I said. “And given the typical Shorshic view of aliens, I imagine there would be a hefty percentage of them who would find it offensive that Colix would let a bunch of primitive Humans cut into him that way.” I gestured. “Which may explain both why he wouldn’t share his fruit treats, and why they were stolen.”

“Because they weren’t treats, but fruit-flavored postoperative throat lozenges?” Bayta asked.

“That’s the first part,” I agreed. “The second is that the facility that issued him the lozenges undoubtedly had their name or logo on the bag. Best explanation for the theft is that the killer didn’t want it known where Colix had his operation.”

Bayta was gazing down at Colix’s throat. “And since we know Mr. Kennrick also tried to find the bag,” she said slowly “that suggests Master Colix had the operation at Pellorian Medical.”

“Exactly,” I said.

“But the rest of the contract team surely also knew about it,” Bayta objected. “Stealing the lozenges wouldn’t have kept the secret from getting out—” She broke off. “Are you suggesting …?”

“That that’s why the team members are dropping like dominoes?” I shrugged. “It certainly fits. The problem is, it fits a little too neatly. Especially when we add in that spare first-class pass. It could just as easily be that our murderer latched on to Colix’s operation as a convenient smokescreen.”

I smoothed Colix’s collar back into place. “But that’s just grist for the hopper at the moment. Come on—let’s check out the other bodies.”

It was a few minutes’ work to open the other three containers and unwrap their occupants to the shoulders. Both Bofiv and Strinni had the same suspicious needle marks as Colix, and in similar places. Givvrac, in contrast, seemed to be unmarked, at least down to his waist, which was as far as I was willing to take this particular exercise.

“But we already knew that Usantra Givvrac died because of the antibacterial spray,” Bayta reminded me as I closed his coffin again.

“We assumed that, anyway,” I said, moving back to Strinni’s body. “It was still worth checking. Shine the light in here, will you? Right here, on the needle mark.”

“What are we looking for?” she asked, taking the light and directing the beam onto Strinni’s neck.

“You’ll see.” Pulling out my multitool’s thinnest probe, I began peeling away the skin at the edge of the needle mark.

“You probably shouldn’t be doing that,” Bayta warned. “If someone from the Path of Onagnalhni finds out we disturbed his body they won’t like it.”

“They’re welcome to file a grievance,” I said. My probe hit something solid, and I teased a little harder at the edges of flesh until I exposed the end. Putting the probe away, I pulled out my most delicate set of tweezers and gave a gentle tug.

And with a brief moment of resistance, the two-millimeter-long hypo tip that had broken off in Strinni’s skin slid out.

“And now we really know why the murderer jumped Witherspoon and me last night,” I said, holding up the tip for Bayta’s inspection. “He managed to smuggle a hypo aboard, but unfortunately ruined it when he broke off the tip. He already had his cadmium, so he didn’t need anything from Witherspoon’s collection of drugs, but he hoped he could make off with a new hypo without anyone noticing.”

“Only we did,” Bayta said, her voice odd. “Did Dr. Witherspoon have anything in his bag that could kill?”

“Probably,” I said. “Painkillers in particular tend to be lethal if you overdo the dosages. But our friend obviously prefers more subtle ways of offing his targets.”

“I was just thinking,” Bayta said slowly, staring at Strinni’s needle mark. “Why did he just tie you into the chair instead of killing you?”

“That’s a cheery thought,” I said, an unpleasant chill running through me. Normally, it didn’t do a murderer much good to kill the cop who was after him, since there were always more cops where the first one had come from.

But at this immediate point in time and space, that comforting logic didn’t apply. As far as cops aboard this train were concerned, I was it. “Luckily for me, he didn’t.”

“No,” Bayta murmured. “Not this time.”

“This time was all he had,” I told her firmly. “He won’t get another shot. Not at me.”

She shivered. “I hope you’re right.”

“Trust me.” Pulling out a handkerchief, I carefully wrapped the needle tip and put it in my pocket. “Come on, let’s put everything back the way it was,” I said as I started rewrapping Strinni’s body. “I think it’s time we sat Mr. Kennrick down in some nice first-class bar seat and found out what other little secrets he and Pellorian Medical are sitting on.”

THIRTEEN

As it turned out, we didn’t have to go all the way to first to confront Kennrick. We found him sitting in the late Master Bofiv’s seat, conversing earnestly with Master Tririn. “There you are,” Kennrick said, standing up as Bayta and I stopped beside them. “I was looking for you earlier.”

“And now you’ve found me,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

Kennrick hesitated, then looked down at Tririn. “Master Tririn, with your permission, I’ll get back to you later on this.”

[As you wish, Mr. Kennrick,] the Shorshian said with a polite nod. [Mr. Compton, have you any further information on the tragic deaths of my colleagues?]

“We’re making progress,” I said. “As soon as we have anything solid, I’ll let you and the rest of the contract team know.”

[Those of us who remain, at least,] he said heavily.

“Yes,” I conceded. “Regardless, you will be informed.” I raised my eyebrows to Kennrick. “Mr. Kennrick?” I said, gesturing for him to step out.

Carefully, Kennrick stepped past the Nemut in the aisle seat and joined us. “Shall we try the bar?” he suggested. “I don’t know how your head feels, but my ribs could use a drink.”

I gestured. “Lead the way.”

We walked past Terese German, who was playing her usual oblivious self behind the social barrier of her headphones, and continued forward. “You looked like a man in full fire-control mode,” I commented to Kennrick as we walked through the next car.

“You have no idea,” he said grimly. “Esantra Worrbin is calling for a binding vote on the contract, even though the terms explicitly state that such a vote can’t be taken until we reach Rentis Tarlay Birim and the team presents its findings to the Maccai Corporation controllers. Asantra Muzzfor and Asantra Dallilo are insisting we follow the terms as written. Esantra Worrbin has countered by threatening to pull rank on them and possibly even revoke their santra status if they don’t go along with him.”

“Can he do that?”

“A simple esantra? Of course not. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.”

“And you were back here trying to talk Master Tririn onto your side?” I suggested.

Kennrick exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure I even have a side anymore,” he said ruefully. “Like you said, from here