The Domino Pattern

too. His leg caught me just above the ankle, and I toppled over, the move forcing me to let go of his wrist so that I could use both hands to break my fall. Luckily, he was similarly unable to get his sweeping leg completely out of my way, and I landed partially on top of it, hampering his effort to regain his feet.

We made it back to vertical at about the same time, with me making sure I ended up standing between him and the door to the rear of the train. “Had enough?” I asked, still panting a little.

The intruder didn’t reply. His hood, which I could see now had been wired to stay firmly in place around his head, had nevertheless slipped enough during the tussle to reveal the tip of a Filly nose. “I didn’t think so,” I went on. “You know, you’re taking this contract thing way too seriousl—”

Without warning, he leaped forward, his hands grabbing my left shoulder and shoving sideways in an attempt to push me far enough out of the way for him to get past. I was ready for something like that, and responded by grabbing one of the arms and trying a repeat of my earlier aikido move.

Unfortunately, this time he was waiting for it. He spun around on one foot as I made my grab, the movement twisting my arm instead of his and breaking my grip. With his escape path now open, he made a break for the door.

He got exactly one and a half steps before I slammed a kick hard into the back of his leg, once again sending him sprawling.

I leaped for him, hoping to pin him down long enough to get a wrist lock on him. But he was too quick. He bounced up off the floor and spun around, and as I grabbed his left wrist he gave me a shove with his free hand that threatened to break my hold and send me to the floor in my turn.

But I wasn’t giving up, either. I hung on grimly, overbalancing him and bringing him tumbling after me. With the alternative being to let him land on me full-weight, I brought my left leg up and planted it into his lower torso. As I hit the floor I straightened my leg, executing a stomach toss of the sort so beloved of early dit rec thrillers and so nearly impossible to pull off in the real world.

Apparently, my opponent had never heard of this one. The toss actually worked, and he went sailing over my head to once again slam onto his back on the floor. Rather surprised myself at the move’s success, I nevertheless had the presence of mind to execute the proper follow-through, using the momentum of my backward roll to somersault over him into a position where I would be sitting on his chest with my knees pinning down his upper arms.

Then again, maybe he had heard of this one. I was still in mid-somersault when he rolled over onto his side, giving a hard sideways yank to the hand I still had on his wrist. Pulled off my planned trajectory, I landed off balance. He twisted my wrist as I hit the floor, breaking what was left of my grip. I grabbed for the arm again, missed, and he bounded to his feet, heading for the rear of the car. Still off-balance, I threw myself at his feet, and by sheer luck got one hand on his ankle. He stumbled, nearly fell, and half turned. As I tried to get a grip with my other hand, out of the corner of my eye I saw his arm windmill as if he was throwing something at me.

An instant later, a patch of something black slapped across my face.

I inhaled sharply from the sheer surprise of it. That was a mistake. The stuff was some kind of clingcloth, of the kind sported by teenaged show-offs, and inhaling against the thing merely sucked the last bit of remaining air from beneath it and plastered it that much tighter against my skin. I tried exhaling, but I didn’t have enough air to do more than temporarily puff out the middle of the cloth.

And with that move I was now completely out of air. I let go of the intruder’s ankle, scrabbling with both hands to try to get a grip on the edges of my new blindfold. Clingcloth was legally required to be porous enough to breathe through, but my current oxygen needs were far greater than any level the regulators had anticipated. If I didn’t get the damn stuff off, and fast, I was probably going to pass out.

Someone grabbed my arm. I shrugged violently against the hand, my fingernails still trying to locate the edges of the clingcloth. “Hold still,” Kennrick’s voice came in my ear. The grip on my arm vanished, and I felt another set of fingers pulling at the edges of my face. “Mm!” I grunted, jabbing a finger down the corridor. I could get the clingcloth off by myself—what I needed Kennrick to do was get to my assailant before he could escape from the car and melt back into the Quadrail’s general populace.

Only with my mouth covered, I couldn’t say that. “Mm!” I tried again.

“Relax, it’s covered,” he said. His fingernails worked their way under the cloth and pulled it away from my face.

I blinked, gasping for breath as I looked around. On both sides, compartment doors were beginning to open as other passengers looked to see what all the noise and commotion was about. Between me and the far end of the car I could see that Bayta had also emerged from her compartment. She was facing away from me, but as I refilled my lungs I saw she was backing toward where Kennrick and I still huddled on the floor. She glanced behind her to double-check my position, then veered a little to her left and dropped down on one knee beside me.

And as she moved out of my line of sight, I saw that my assailant had not, in fact, escaped. He was lying in the middle of the corridor, his hooded cloak flapping like a wounded bird as he writhed in agony.

“You all right?” Bayta asked anxiously, her eyes flicking to me and then back to the thrashing Filly. Gripped in her hand, I saw, was the kwi I’d left with her.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, still breathing hard. “Nice work.”

“And then some,” Kennrick put in, his voice sounding stunned. “Special relationship with the Spiders, huh?”

I focused on him, to discover that he was gazing at the kwi.

Terrific. “Nothing special about it,” I said, putting an edge on my tone, acutely aware of all the other eyes and ears gathered around us. “She got in a good gut punch, that’s all.”

Kennrick tore his gaze from the kwi and locked eyes with me. A flicker of something went across his face— “Ah,” he said. “Right.”

I held his eyes a moment longer, just to make sure he’d gotten the entire message, then looked back at the Filly. “Want to make any bets as to which of your three Filly friends is inside that hood?” I asked as I levered myself back to my feet. “My guess is that it’s Esantra Worrbin.”

“No bet,” Kennrick said grimly. “Let’s find out.”

We headed down the corridor, and I noticed in passing that there was a small gray box lying on the floor beside my compartment door. I reached the Filly and leaned over him. “You going to cooperate?” I asked politely. “Or do we need to make sure you’ll hold still?”

The Filly didn’t answer. But he was clearly in no position to give any serious resistance. Straddling his torso, I slipped my hands inside his hood, found and disengaged the stiffening wires that had held it in place, and threw it back.

It was a Filly, all right. But it wasn’t any of the contract-team members, as I’d assumed. It was, instead, Logra Emikai: barstool warmer, protector of Human maidens in distress, and attempted briber of Spider agents.

“Huh,” Kennrick grunted from my side. “I guess I should have taken that bet.”

“Hilarious,” I growled, grabbing one of Emikai’s arms. “Come on—help me get him into my compartment. He has some explaining to do.”

FIFTEEN

Emikai was pretty heavy, and his legs still weren’t functioning all that well. But between Kennrick, Bayta, and me we got him into my compartment and seated more or less comfortably on the curve couch. Our next task was to remove his cloak and search for any other goodies or semi-weapons he might have on him. We confiscated another patch of clingcloth, a squeeze bulb filled with talcum powder like the booby trap he’d set up on the vestibule door, and, for good measure, the extra unlimited first-class pass that we’d known was wandering loose on our train.

We also confiscated the gadget he’d left lying by my door.

“So what now?” Kennrick asked when we’d finished our frisking.

“We start by calling in a couple of Spiders,” I said. “Bayta, I need a conductor and two mites. Have them wait out in the corridor until I need them.”