“Take a jitney,” Santerese said, with a ghost of her usual manner. “This is no time for you to be cheap, Heikki.”
“I’ll do that,” Heikki said, relieved, and broke the connection. The screen faded to neutral gray, waiting for her next command, but Heikki sat still for a moment longer, staring past the screen at the floater platforms half a level below. Even as she watched, one of the bubbles rose past her, carried on the invisible beam, its riders distorted shapes against the transluscent plastic. She fixed her eyes on it as it rose out of sight, then waited until it began its leisurely descent toward the receiving station on the far side of the station’s open central volume. It was not like Santerese to be so quiet, not like her to worry—in fact, Heikki thought, it would be more like her to be fighting back, with suit and countersuit. Something simply wasn’t right. Heikki shook herself then, annoyed with her own imaginings. She had asked the code question, and Santerese had answered: nothing could be wrong. No one else knew their system, not even Djuro. Nothing was wrong.
A prompt question had been flashing on the screen for some time now, Heikki realized suddenly. She touched the keys that closed down the system and retrieved her card, and then levered herself out of the narrow box. Nothing is wrong, she told herself again, but caught herself looking over her shoulder more than once as she returned to the concourse where she had left Galler.
“What kept you?” Galler looked up from his lapscreen, scowling irritably.
“It took me a while to find an empty box,” Heikki answered. “Come on, will you?”
Galler’s eyebrow rose in a mocking question, and
Heikki glared at him, daring him to speak. After a moment, it was Galler who looked away. Heikki allowed herself a grim smile, and took her place in the line of people waiting for jitneys.
Most of the crowd from their train had already found transport, and it wasn’t long before a jitney pulled up to the platform. Heikki fed it her cashcard, wondering morosely just how much this rescue was going to cost her before it was over, and gave the machine her address. The canopy sprang up instantly, and Heikki climbed in. Galler followed, tugging the canopy closed behind him, and the machine slid smoothly away from the platform.
EP7 had only one major connector, a massive corridor known as the Artery that ran along the central spine of the station. The jitney swung wide around the open volume at the center of Pod One, then turned onto a spiral ramp that carried it up and into the traffic of the Artery. It was not crowded at this time of the Exchange Point’s day, and the mix of traffic, mass carriers on the lower levels, private vehicles, jitneys, and the like in the upper lanes, was moving almost at the permitted maximum. Heikki’s mood lifted a little, seeing that: not long, she thought, not long at all until we’re home and we can finally start fighting back.
The jitney deposited them at the top of the stairwell that led down into Pod Nineteen. Heikki stopped at the security booth to identify Galler to the bored-looking securitron, then led the way past the lowered barriers and down the spiralling stairs to the suite of rooms that was both office and flat. As she stepped off the stairway, she noticed that the heavy curtains had been drawn across the narrow window. Stepping closer, she saw that the red bar was lit above the concierge plate: Business closed.
“I would’ve thought your partner would be working today,” Galler said, at her shoulder.
Heikki shrugged. “Things happen.” She turned toward the alleyway that led to the private entrances, and Galler caught her shoulder.
“This isn’t right, Gwynne. There could be something wrong.”
Heikki made a face, debating whether she should tell him, then shrugged. “Ever since we stopped working for Lo-Moth, people have been asking questions about our past methods. The Marshallin says we’re under investigation. That’s why we’re closed.”
“Damn.” It was unlike Galler, ‘pointer to the bone, to swear, and Heikki stopped to look at him, startled. He gestured apology. “I’m sorry. But if they’ve started to investigate you—what is it, illegal procedures, things like that?”
Heikki nodded.
“Then I don’t see how you can help me,” Galler said. “I need supporters who are above reproach.”
Heikki took a deep breath, and caught her brother’s shoulder, spinning him back to face her. “Get one thing straight, little brother. I am above reproach. We are professionals, we do not break laws, and we don’t cut corners. The Licensing Board, or even the cops, can investigate until doomsday, and they won’t find anything that isn’t faked—obviously faked. Is that clear?”
Galler nodded, but did not look particularly convinced. Heikki turned away, angry with herself for losing her temper, and unlocked the grill that barred the private entrances. The door to the flat opened before she could lay her hand against the lock, and Santerese beckoned her in.
“I heard you yelling outside,” she said, with a shadow of her normal smile.
“I’m sorry, Marshallin,” Heikki said, and stepped into the familiar room, Galler at her shoulder. A drinks tray was resting on the side table, two filled glasses waiting. A third stood half-empty on the monitor console, and a fourth—also half-empty—on the sideboard beside the door to the workroom. Heikki’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything, an enormous figure poked its head out of the doorway. If he had been a little smaller, and darker, he could have been Nkosi’s twin; as it was, he bore an uncomfortable resemblance to one of the shaggier terrestrial bears. He looked like a clown, Heikki thought, torn between laughter and shrieking fury, and drew breath to say something she would certainly regret. Before she could speak, however, the big man said cheerfully, “Good to see you, Heikki. And you, ser, must be the lady’s all too elusive brother.” His tone changed abruptly. “You are Galler Heikki?”
Galler hesitated, and Heikki said, flatly, “Yes, this is Galler.” She looked at her brother. “And this is Idris Max, who last time I knew him was with the Transit Police.”
“Oh, I’ve been promoted since then,” Max said genially. He always had been impervious to insult, Heikki remembered. She looked at Santerese.
“I thought you told me everything was all right.”
“As far as I knew, it was.” Santerese looked at Max. “Unless you’ve changed your plans?”
Max smiled. “Not at all. But there is a query out for him.”
“Which is not the same thing as an advice of arrest,” Galler murmured, just loudly enough to be heard.
“Very true,” Max said. “However, I am obliged to ask you a few questions.”
Heikki looked again at Santerese. “Marshallin, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Santerese made a face. “Doll, I wish I knew. When I got word that a formal investigation was being launched, I put Malachy on the legal aspects, and—since I had to admit you were probably right about Lo-Moth screwing us on this one—I started to work on the tapes you sent me. I also got back in touch with your ex- boyfriend here.” She nodded to Max, who bowed.
“He never was,” Heikki said.
Santerese grinned. “Whatever you say, doll. Anyway, I figured if anybody had the connections we needed, it would be him. So here he is, and here you are.”
“What did you find on the tapes?” Heikki asked.
“Now that,” Max interrupted, “was the most interesting thing about all of this mess.” He lumbered over to the drinks tray, and scooped up one of the glasses. He passed it to Heikki, who stared for an instant in fascination at the delicate goblet clutched in the enormous paw before accepting it.
“It’s that bad?” she said aloud.
“The crystal matrix was destroyed at the wreck site,” Santerese said.
Heikki swore, and did not bother to apologize. That was, in her opinion, the least likely of all the possible results—but on the other hand, if Galler was right, if Lo-Moth’s new matrix wasn’t new at all, but was derived from the same research that had produced the flawed crystal that had destroyed EP1. . What else could the pirates do with it? It couldn’t be sold, and it certainly couldn’t be kept—and the pirates couldn’t’ve been the usual run of hired thugs, she realized abruptly. They had to be company men, trusted men, because otherwise there would be too many opportunities for blackmail….
“This is making sense to you,” Max said, and the buffoonery was gone from his voice. “Give.”
Heikki took a deep breath, marshalling her thoughts, but before she could say anything, Galler spoke. “Wait a minute, Gwynne.” His voice was brittle, amused. “Before you start talking to the—authorities—I think there are a couple of questions you should be asking.”
“Ask away,” Max said.
