The Domino Pattern

She nodded, her eyes unfocusing as she sent the message.

I watched Emikai closely during the silent communication, searching for signs of surprise or interest. But there was neither. Clearly, he already knew all about Bayta’s special relationship with the Spiders.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Bayta reported.

“Thank you,” I said. “So, Logra Emikai. How are you feeling?”

“I have been worse,” he said stiffly.

“I’m sure you have,” I said, looking him over. His convulsions had mostly ceased, but he was still twitching occasionally from the aftereffects of the kwi. I wondered which of the three pain settings Bayta had used, but I wasn’t about to ask that question with Kennrick standing there listening. He knew way too much already. “I suppose we should first offer you the easy way. Would you care to make a statement as to what the hell you’ve been up to lately?”

For a moment Emikai gazed at me, possibly trying to decide which lie would be the most believable. “Several days ago I asked you for information about the air filter analysis you claimed you would be performing,” he said. “You never returned with that information.”

“So you thought you’d stop by and help yourself to the data?”

“I stopped by merely to inquire on your progress,” he corrected.

“Of course,” I said. “You must have forgotten that I’d already told you that if there was anything relevant the Spiders would inform everyone at the same time.”

“Perhaps,” he said. His eyes drifted around the room, pausing on the two carrybags sitting together on their rack above my bed. “But perhaps they fear to reveal the truth.”

“Has anyone else dropped dead?” I asked, watching his eyes. He was definitely interested in my carrybags. Probably wondering which of them held my alleged spectroscopic analyzer. “Has anyone else even gotten sick?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he admitted, shifting his gaze back to me. “But the two Shorshians were in equally good health for over two weeks before their sudden deaths.”

“Why are you even interested about the air in that car?” Kennrick asked. “I spent a fair amount of time back there with my associates, and I never once saw you put in an appearance. Is that even your car?”

“Should not one be concerned about the welfare of others?” Emikai countered. “Especially if one has the ability to guard that welfare?” He looked back at me. “Or claims to have that ability.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t actually have the spectroscopic analysis equipment Dr. Aronobal told you about?” I asked mildly.

His nose blaze lightened noticeably in reaction at Aronobal’s name. More aftereffects of the kwi—normally he probably would have tried to suppress such a giveaway. “The Filiaelian physician?” he hedged. “I have not spoken to her about any such equipment.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “It’s painfully obvious that Aronobal’s midnight call just now was to get me out of the way so you could use your little first-class pass to come up here and burgle my room.” I gestured to the carrybags. “By the way, if you were hoping for a look at my analysis equipment, forget it. It’s not actually here at the moment.”

Again, his nose blaze lightened briefly. He’d been scoping out my bags, all right. “That may be,” he said, an edge of challenge in his voice. “In my view, until I have evidence of its existence, I also have no belief.”

“Wait a second,” Kennrick said, looking back and forth between Emikai and me. “Wait just a damn second. This guy has a first-class pass? I thought he was riding in third.”

“He is,” I confirmed. “Apparently, he likes slumming.”

“Why, you son of a—” He jabbed a finger at the Filly. “It’s him. It has to be. He’s the one who’s been killing off our contract team.”

“I have harmed no one,” Emikai insisted, his blaze lightening again in reaction. “I give you my word.”

“Like your word means camel spit,” Kennrick snarled, taking a step toward him. “Compton, this is the guy. It all fits.”

“Calm down,” I soothed, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “We’re a long way yet from accusing him of mass murder.”

“Are we?” Kennrick countered. “Who else had access to both third and first?”

“Well, for starters, everyone in first,” I reminded him.

He stopped in mid-tirade, his lip twisting. “Oh. Yes, I suppose …” He trailed off.

“But attempted breaking and entering is another story,” I went on, hefting the flat gray box we’d found outside my door. On the outside, it looked like a standard bypass mimic, the sort used by locksmiths when people lock themselves out of their apartments or cars. But I was betting its guts were considerably more sophisticated than that. “You have a license for this, I assume?”

“That device is not mine,” Emikai insisted. “I never saw it before.”

“Of course not,” I said. “And you attacked me why?”

“I did not attack you,” he said. “I saw something on the door explode into a white powder in front of you, and I was coming to offer my aid.”

“You mean this kind of white powder?” I asked, holding up the squeeze bulb.

“I do not know what kind of powder it was,” Emikai said, an edge of wounded indignation in his tone. “My powder is for relief of a painful rash from which I suffer.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. With the effects of the kwi wearing off, he was proving himself a decent actor and liar both. I would have expected nothing less from the professional who’d snookered me into that trip wire in the baggage car.

The question was, what had he been looking for back there? And what had he hoped to find in my compartment?

But whatever the answers, we weren’t going to get them tonight. I’d seen Emikai’s type enough times to know that he was going to require a lot more persuasion, or the right lever, before he would give anything up. “Whatever,” I said. “You realize, of course, that you’re going to have to be locked up pending a full investigation.”

“Nonsense,” he said stiffly. “You have not reached the required legal bar for such action.”

“Maybe not by Filiaelian standards,” I said. “But in case you haven’t noticed, we’re aboard a Quadrail. Quadrails run under Spider rules.”

Emikai looked at Kennrick, then Bayta, then back at me, and I could see that the full nature of his situation was starting to sink in. “The Filiaelian Assembly will not tolerate the mistreatment of its citizens,” he warned.

“Oh, I don’t think they’ll have too much of a problem with it,” I said, waving him to his feet. “In general, Filiaelians dislike criminals every bit as much as Humans do.”

Slowly, Emikai stood up. His eyes flicked again to Bayta, probably checking on her alertness. Having been shot from behind, he couldn’t know what exactly she’d done to lay him out on the corridor floor that way. But from his expression and cautious movements it was clear that he wasn’t interested in having another go at it. “Where do you intend to take me?” he asked.

“Well, we don’t have a proper brig,” I said consideringly. “So I guess we’ll have to put you in the morgue.”

“The morgue?”

“Yes,” I said. “Unless you’re ready to have a serious talk?”

He drew himself up. “There is nothing to talk about,” he said. “Show me to my prison.”

“As you wish,” I said. “Bayta, let the mites in, will you?”

She crossed to the door and opened it, and a pair of the little Spiders came in. “What do you want with those?” Emikai asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice as the mites skittered toward us on their seven slender legs.

“Unfortunately, wristcuffs aren’t allowed on Quadrails,” I said. “So we’re going to have to improvise. Turn around, please, and cross your wrists behind your back.”

I actually wasn’t at all sure this was going to work. But Bayta had caught on to the plan, and with a little experimentation—and probably a lot of silent communication—we got the mites wrapped solidly around Emikai’s arms, their slender legs interlocked to keep them in place. “I’ll have to remember this one,” I commented to Bayta as we headed out the door into the corridor.

Bayta nodded toward the waiting conductor. “What did you want him to do?” she asked.