Alexieva stirred again, but Nkosi silenced her with an outflung hand. “Do you have any proof of this, Heikki?”
“Circumstantial evidence, yeah.” Heikki lifted her head at Nkosi’s whispered curse. “And you know me, Jock. I don’t make accusations lightly.”
“No.” Nkosi’s temper faded as quickly as it had flared, and he turned back to Alexieva. “Well, Alex?”
“Well, what?” The surveyor’s anger sounded convincing. “It’s about time somebody asked me what I had to say.”
“Well, what do you have to say?” Heikki murmured, and Alexieva shot her a look of pure loathing. Then she saw Nkosi’s eyes on her, and controlled herself with an effort.
“I can see how people might say I worked for Lo-Moth,” she said slowly. “Yes, I get a lot of jobs through them, and I have friends in the company. But I don’t— spy—for them, if that’s what you’re accusing me of.”
Nkosi looked toward Heikki, not convinced, quite, but wanting to believe. Heikki said reluctantly, “What about FitzGilbert?”
Alexieva flinched at that, and they all saw it, an involuntary and betraying movement of her shoulders. Heikki saw Nkosi’s expression change, and Alexieva saw it, too. “Yes,” she said abruptly, “I’ve done some private work for Dam’ FitzGilbert, and, yes, she asked me to take this job as a favor to her. So what?”
“Why did she want you to take the job?” Heikki asked.
Alexieva looked again at Nkosi, a glance so rapid as to be unreadable, and answered promptly, “She wanted to be sure there wasn’t another debacle like Foursquare. She thinks something’s going on, and she wanted to have an independent observer—someone she could trust—along on the search.”
That makes a certain amount of sense, Heikki thought, and it fits the facts. And for some reason, I think I believe her. She glanced at Djuro, lifting one eyebrow in question, and the little man nodded slowly. Nkosi was nodding, too.
“If this is true—and I do think it is, Heikki—Alex is still in danger here. I think she should come with us.”
“I would like that,” Alexieva said, low-voiced.
“What about your business?” Heikki asked.
“I have partners.” Alexieva looked up, her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “And what the hell good is a business, if you’re too dead to run it?”
Nkosi grinned, his usual good humor reasserting itself. “You have a point.”
“All right,” Heikki said. “I’ll see if the captain will take another passenger—Jock, you and Alexieva can work out the payment however you like.”
“Thank you,” Alexieva said.
Nkosi nodded. “I appreciate this, Heikki.”
“I hope so,” Heikki answered, but managed a smile to take the sting out of the words. Nkosi laughed, and vanished into his own room, Alexieva following. The door closed behind them, and Heikki shook her head, the smile fading.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she said, to no one in particular, and looked at Djuro. “What do you think, Sten?”
“About what Jan said?” Djuro asked, and shrugged when Heikki nodded. “I don’t know. He could be jealous, you know.”
“Of Alexieva?” Heikki couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Sure. Jock’s a fine-looking man.” Djuro’s voice softened slightly. “And you don’t see things like that even when they’re right under your nose, Heikki.”
Heikki smiled rather wryly, but had to admit the truth of that. “Maybe so. All right, put it down to jealousy, and we’ll take her back to the Loop—but she can keep her distance once we’re there.”
CHAPTER 7
As Heikki had expected, the freighter’s captain was not unwilling to add two more passengers to her manifest, though she did add up the surcharges with an unholy glee. She had not expected that Nkosi would agree so meekly to his share of the outrageous price, but could not complain about the lack of protest. They were able to bring the equipment aboard without interference from Lo-Moth, though Heikki was somewhat surprised by the ease with which she evaded FitzGilbert’s offers of help. The voyage itself was uninteresting, and Heikki spent most of the time in her cabin, trying to sort out the crash data recorded on her disks. She was able to get somewhat further than she had on Iadara, but the captain was unable to spare her enough computer space to run the full scale simulations Heikki wanted. Despite that setback, however, she was able to analyze both the tapes of the wreck site and of the exterior of the latac itself, and by the time the freighter had nosed into its dock on Exchange Point 5, she was certain the LTA had been the victim of a deliberate attack, and thought she could even name the missiles used. Her report might not convince a full court of law, she amended silently, as she thumb-sealed each of three copies, but the tapes would be good enough for any inquiry short of that. The law was, after all, notoriously demanding.
She left Djuro to manage the transfer of their equipment to the next startrain for EP7, and went looking for the nearest locator screen. Its bright blue console stood just outside the entrance to the tunnel that led down to the dock—set there, she knew, for the convenience of the arriving crewmen. The inquiry rates were higher than in the main volume of the station, but she ignored that, and keyed in her request. The machine considered for a moment, then chimed twice. She lifted her data lens to read the output: the nearest postal station was at the Pod’s core, just outside the main traffic control station. She nodded to herself, dismissing the screen, and looked up to find Djuro watching curiously.
“I have an errand to run,” Heikki said, forestalling any questions. “I’ll meet you at the Station Axis in half an hour.”
“It’s three hours to the next train,” Djuro said, expressionlessly, and Heikki started to swear. She bit back the oath with an effort, remembering where she was, said instead, “All right. We’ll meet at the Club, then. We can get Jan in, can’t we?”
Djuro nodded. “You’ll let Jock take responsibility for Alexieva?”
“He certainly seems to want to,” Heikki said, rather dryly, but nodded. “Absolutely. I’m still not sure we can trust her, Sten.”
“Does that have anything to do with your errand?” the little man asked, and Heikki sighed.
“I—maybe. This whole thing is screwed—fouled up,” she amended, too late, and the inquiry console flashed a plaintext warning. Immodest language is not permitted within the Loop. Visitors are advised to remember local custom. Heikki made a face at it, and moved away from the console’s pickups. “I’ve been doing some work,” she said, lowering her voice, “and I’d like to get the results on record now, just in case there’s any questions later.”
Djuro nodded again. “I think that’s smart,” he said, and Heikki found herself wishing, irrationally, that he’d derided her fears. “I’ll take care of the unloading then, and the transfer. How do you want to handle the transshipment fees?”
Heikki grimaced, annoyed with herself for forgetting, and slipped one of the business’s bankcards from her pocket. “This should cover it. I’ll see you at the Club in half an hour.”
“Right,” Djuro said, and turned away.
Heikki looked away from him, too, along the broader corridor that led toward the center of the Pod. The pods that made up the docking shell were fairly standardized; the fastest path from skin to center would also be the most spectacular. Typical of the ‘pointers, she thought. They want you to be sure and admire what they’ve wrought—and it is admirable, what’s been built out here, out of nothing and less than nothing—but they also know better than to delay a harried businessman.
The corridor sloped gently upward underfoot. She slowed her steps to meet it, and to match ‘pointer expectations: here in the dock shell, precinct behavior was more tolerated, but it was hard enough to move from one mode to the other. From the moment she set foot on an Exchange Point, she had to become ‘pointer from head to toe, or she could never make the transition. She walked carefully, stride restrained, and kept her eyes
