The look of annoyance faded, and Galler managed what might have been a nod of approval. “Of course, at once.”
Most of the other pedestrians seemed to have had the same idea. It was easy to lose themselves among the crowd streaming toward the end of the street, but once they had reached the round plaza where the jitneys were swarming, Galler turned left again, doubling back toward Tremoth’s offices.
“Are you crazy?” Heikki asked under her breath, and Galler darted an annoyed glance at her.
“Not entirely. We’re more likely to pick up a jitney here, before they get to this mob.”
There was logic to that, Heikki admitted silently, and made no further protest, though she sighed with relief when they turned station-north again, back toward the center of the Exchange Point. As Galler had predicted, the streets were less crowded, and jitneys streamed past them, summoned by the central computer to the scene of the sudden demand. Galler did not signal one until they were well away from the jewelers’ district, and Heikki had to approve the tactic. There was no sense in allowing themselves to be connected in any way to the disturbance they had just left.
At last, however, Galler lifted his hand as a jitney turned down the street toward them, saying in the same moment, “I hope you have some cash slips?”
“Typical,” Heikki said, bitterly. “Yes, some.” And I’ll be damned if I tell you how much I’m carrying, she added silently.
“Well, I hope it’s enough,” Galler answered, and opened the jitney’s passenger compartment.
“Probably,” Heikki said, with equally false good humor, and the jitney said, “Destination, please?”
Galler’s face stilled, all trace of banter vanishing. “Pod Twenty-One, level six, fourth court. The traffic circle there,” he added, forestalling the next question.
“Acknowledged,” the jitney answered, and slid smoothly away from the curb.
“Where—?” Heikki began, and bit back the rest of her question.
Galler, however, did not seem disturbed, but leaned back against the seat cushions. “Home. Or what passes for home these days.”
Was that wise? Heikki wondered, but could not bring herself to question her brother further. Still, it wasn’t like Galler to be less than devious.
She had her answer quickly enough. They changed jitneys three times before Galler finally seemed satisfied, and directed the last machine to take them to the Samuru Court in Pod Fourteen. This was on one of the lower levels, where the semi-transient populations, the people who worked in transport or trade rather than in the prestigious sedentary jobs, tended to live. Heikki glanced surreptitiously at her lens, and saw that the area was shaded pale green, a mix of light commerce and housing.
The jitney deposited them on the edge of the Court, and Galler led them slowly around almost the full circle, watching their reflection in the shop displays to see if anyone was following them. At last he nodded to himself, and cut directly across the Court, dodging the anemic fountain. He was headed for side street eighty-two, Heikki thought, but then he changed direction as abruptly as before, and ducked into an ungated door between two shops. She was caught wrong-footed, stumbled and swore, and Galler hissed at her to be quiet.
They were in what seemed to be a machinists’ service alley, a dark cul-de-sac between the buildings, with hatches in the walls to either side that probably concealed the shops’ utility panels. Heikki frowned, and Galler said, to the apparently blank wall at the end of the alley, “Apartment Five. And one guest.”
Oh, I see, Heikki thought, and wondered if she could afford to be amused. This was a “privacy flat,” the sort of place rich businesspeople hired for unapprovable lovers. I wonder if my little brother is renter or beneficiary? Probably the renter, she decided, with some disappointment, and probably for political rather than sexual reasons.
At Galler’s words, the wall slid aside silently, revealing a tiny entrance hall and stairway quite at odds with the just-respectable shops that ringed the Court. The walls were painted a pale and dusty rose-red, and a pattern of wave-like whorls had been etched into the surface; the carpet—and it was carpeting, not plush tiling—echoed that pattern in darker shades. Heikki mouthed a soundless whistle, and Galler gave her an almost embarrassed look.
“It serves its purpose,” he said, and started up the stairs.
“And what is that?” Heikki asked, following. Galler pretended he hadn’t heard.
Galler’s flat was on the third level—which reassures me a little, Heikki thought. At least he wasn’t paying premium rents, not if he actually had to walk all that distance. She grinned to herself, but the smile faded as Galler unlocked the flat’s door.
The place was tiny, only two miniscule rooms, plus bath cubby and the wall kitchen only half hidden by a folding screen, but it was perfect, the sort of luxury Heikki herself had only dreamed of.
“You do all right for yourself,” she said involuntarily, and winced, hearing the envy in her voice.
Galler heard it too, and smiled as he waved her toward the couch that dominated the tiny main room. He said nothing, however, busying himself instead with the touchpad set into the wall beside the door. Security systems, Heikki guessed, and, moved by an obscure impulse, kicked off her shoes on the mat by the door before settling herself not on the couch but on the meter-tall pillow that was the room’s only other chair. Seen up close, the room was less impressive, the furniture not of this year’s, or even last year’s, style, the single flower—a pseudo-orchid as big as her head, fushcia edged in black, vivid against the discreet cream walls— fabric and wire rather than a live blossom. Even so, Heikki thought, it still proves a corporate salary’s better than mine. She had not needed the reminder, and the annoyance soured her voice as Galler turned away from the wall panel.
“So what’s going on, little brother?”
“Well you should ask.” Galler seated himself on the couch and moved aside a concealment panel to touch buttons on a hidden remote. A bar set-up, complete with bottles and fancifully molded ice, rose from the floor in front of him. He reached for a glass, began to fill it, and then belatedly remembered his manners.
“Help yourself, please.” Heikki shook her head, and Galler went on, “Trouble and more trouble, that’s what’s going on. What did you find on Iadara?”
Heikki laughed without humor. “Oh, no, you first.”
Galler grimaced, the ice snapping in his glass as he poured ink-blue liquor over it. “I’ve worked for Tremoth almost twenty years,” he began, and then shook his head. “No, let’s not descend to self-pity. What’s going on….I’m not completely sure, Heikki, but if what I think I’ve figured out is right, we’re not just going to get sued, we’re going to get lynched.”
“Who’s we?” Heikki asked pointedly, and Galler laughed.
“Tremoth, Gwynne. All of us.”
“Not me,” Heikki said. She shook her head. “You got in touch with me, Galler. You asked for my help, and got me into a lot of trouble in the bargain. Give.”
Galler stared into his drink for a long moment. “The crystal matrix you were hired to find,” he said at last. “Apparently the structure was derived from research that Tremoth did about a hundred and fifty years ago. I found that out—it’s part of my job, checking up on things like that, just so no one can sue us for stealing ideas—and when I told my boss, he hit the roof.”
“Why?” Heikki asked. “Lo-Moth’s practically part of Tremoth. It’s not like they were stealing it from you—is it?”
Galler shrugged. “Normally, no. When our techs have a good idea, it usually gets farmed out to the appropriate subsidiary. It’s just logic, they have the facilities and a lot more hands-on experience than we do. But this time … This time, my boss threw a fit, started me hunting who’d passed the matrix codes, and then who had access to the relevant files, all of that. I found it, all right—it was old data, back in the historical files, so I assumed it was something that had been proved unworkable, and passed all that along to my boss. Two weeks later, I was transferred to a different division.” He managed a rather strained smile. “Which was something of a shock, as I’d thought I was doing rather a good job.”
“Just who was your boss, Galler?” Heikki interjected quietly.
“A man named Daulo Slade.” Galler smiled again. “As you knew, and it gets better. He was a rising man, he seemed a good person to get in with, even if he is a Retroceder—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Which isn’t important. Anyway, all of this aroused my curiosity, of course, and I kept an eye—a discreet eye, I thought—on the Lo-Moth project. The next thing I heard, the matrix had been lost in an LTA crash on Iadara.”
“Which wasn’t what you normally think of as a crash,” Heikki murmured. Galler lifted an eyebrow, and Heikki
