Dock Seven, disdaining the slidewalk’s continuation, and turned into the dock corridor. Behind her, the gang of adolescents stopped dead, glancing first at the brightly lit directory board, and then at the glittering signs that lined the head of the corridor. I hope to hell they’re not going to Victoria’s, she thought—but Victoria will know how to deal with them, if they are. The thought was more than a little satisfying, and she was smiling when she stepped through the mirrored door.
It was very dim in the main room, especially after the brightness of the tunnels, but she made her way to the bar with the ease of long habit. It was not particularly crowded yet, and Victoria himself was manning the bar. He stepped forward as Heikki came into the wedge of light in front of the bar, his generously painted mouth curving up into a genuine smile of welcome.
“Heikki. Where’ve you been, dear, and where’s the Marshallin?”
“Pleasaunce,” Heikki answered, and seated herself comfortably on the nearest stool. “And I’m just back from Callithea.”
“Another one of your archeological specials, or routine business?” Victoria asked, and leaned heavily against the bar. He was a big man, despite the corsets and padding that provided the shape beneath the satin and sequined evening gown, and his heavy makeup could not entirely hide the lines at the corners of his eyes and bracketing the sensual mouth. He looked like a dowager who resolutely refused to give up the habits of her youth—and it was, Heikki thought, a fair summation. “Salatha gin?”
“Please.” Heikki accepted the drink as it appeared seemingly from nowhere, and shrugged when Victoria waved away the proffered cashcard. “That can’t do your business much good.”
“Oh, the next drink’s on you, dear, never fret.” His eyes narrowed as the door opened again, and the group of adolescents Heikki had noticed on the slidewalk came in, clustering together and murmuring into their collars at the strangeness of it all. Victoria sighed, and shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said, and ran his fingers across the touchplate embedded in his enormous bracelet. Heikki grinned, and swung around on her stool to watch. A moment later, a short-haired woman in a black leather bodice and trousers that fit like a second skin slouched forward to meet them, her white-painted face set in a forbidding scowl. A heavy chain swung menacingly at her waist.
“Yeah, help you?” she growled, with patent insincerity. The adolescents exchanged glances, and said something too soft for Heikki to hear: Then, as abruptly as they’d appeared, the group retreated. As the door swung shut behind them, the leather-clad woman grinned, the expression transforming her almost elfin face, and came over to the bar, pulling her orderpad out of her waistband by its chain.
“Was that all right, boss?” she asked. “And I need a bottle of joie-de-vivre for upstairs, while I’m here.”
Victoria nodded, touching buttons on the bar, and a moment later the frosted bottle rose through the serving hatch, steaming gently in the sudden warmth. “Neatly done.”
The woman smiled again, and disappeared, balancing the bottle easily in one hand.
“Who’s she?” Heikki asked.
“Happily married—to a freighter tech, I believe—with two kids,” Victoria answered.
Heikki laughed. “I hadn’t seen her before, that’s all.”
“You haven’t been in recently,” Victoria answered. “Lord, my dear, I think it’s been two months.”
“I’ve been working,” Heikki said again, and added, before the other could ask, “All routine.” She took a sip of her gin, and leaned forward. “And I’m afraid it’s partly business that’s brought me now. Is Jack Nkosi here tonight? Or Sten?”
“Sten’s not in yet, if you’re meeting him. Jock’s upstairs.” Victoria lifted painted eyebrows. “Flirting with the waitresses. Do you want him?”
“I’ve got some business with him,” Heikki answered. She started to stand up, but Victoria waved her back.
“I’ll send a message. He’ll be distracting them all night, else.”
“Thanks,” Heikki said, and waited while the other fingered his bracelet again.
After a moment, Victoria nodded. “He’s on his way. You don’t know how glad I’ll be when I can finally retire, dear, and let someone else take over.”
“There’s no one else like you, and you know it,” Heikki began, but Victoria continued as though she had not spoken.
“You know what I’m really looking forward to? Not having to put on this damned corset every night.” He gave an impish smile as a warning buzzer sounded, and reached out to hit the monitor’s override button. “And I will say what I want in my own place, thank you very much.”
Heikki returned the smile, but Victoria’s eyes were already on the staircase that curved down from the bar’s upper floor. “And here he comes, looking like a cat in cream.”
Heikki turned on her stool, and couldn’t restrain a laugh. Nkosi was a big man, made bigger by the bulk of the leather coat he wore slung across his shoulder, its color and textures dulled by the rich brown of his skin. Two of the waitresses—and one of the waiters, who should have known better—were hanging over the railing, the younger girl calling something that Heikki could not hear. Nkosi lifted his hand in laughing answer, and moved toward the bar, arms spread in greeting. Heikki, who did not as a rule like being touched, submitted to being lifted off her stool, whirled in a dizzying embrace, and set neatly back where she belonged.
“And that is also a mighty fine jacket you have now,” Nkosi said, as though their last meeting had not occurred five standard months ago. “Tree-wool? Yes—”
“Now, dear,” Victoria said, and he was smiling, “I can’t have you assaulting the customers as well as corrupting my staff.” He slid a tall drink across the counter toward the newcomer.
“Have there been complaints?” Nkosi asked, with a grin.
“I’m not waiting for the paternity suits, dear,” Victoria retorted.
“Outrageous,” Nkosi said. “I always take precautions, do I not, Heikki?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Heikki answered, and Nkosi continued as though she had agreed with him.
“One would think you were jealous, Victoria. Most unworthy of you.”
“I could be jealous,” Victoria said, “if you ever paid any attention to me.”
“If I thought there was a chance you would consider me, Vickie, I would be on my knees in an instant,” Nkosi answered.
Victoria shook his head, smiling. “Someday, dear,
I’m going to take you up on that offer, and then where will you be?”
Heikki laughed. “Sten said he ran into you about a ten-day ago, and you were looking for work?”
“And I still am,” Nkosi answered. “The job he mentioned came?”
Heikki nodded. “I’m just waiting for the contract to go through our lawyer. It looks as though it will be pretty much a standard air search and wreck analysis— it’s been long enough since the crash that even if it was sabotage or hijacking—”
“Sten did not say that that was a possibility,” Nkosi murmured.
“—there shouldn’t be any problems, and there’s a danger bonus built into the contract in any case,” Heikki finished. “Yeah, there does seem to be a good chance it was one or the other. Does that make a problem?”
Nkosi shook his head. “Not in the least. It should add spice.”
Well, that’s typical, Heikki thought. She said aloud, “I can offer you union rates, plus your share of the bonus if we earn it. How does that sound to you?”
Nkosi didn’t seem to hesitate. “I am willing, the pay sounds good. Yes, I will go. What are the atmospheric conditions like?”
That was also typical, act first and think later, Heikki thought, and suppressed a grin. “Do you know Iadara, Sixth Precinct?”
“No.”
“It’s semi-tropical, in the settled areas, with a bad weather pattern through the interior—”
“Which of course is where we’re going?”
“Of course.” Heikki smiled, rather thinly this time. “It rates about a four on the Antraversi scale, up to a six in the storm season.”
“Not bad.” Nkosi nodded. “We can handle that, no problem. When do you want to sign papers? And when do we leave?”
“I’m waiting for the contract to come back from the lawyer,” Heikki answered.
