"It's just was well you were running around pretending to be a Peace Force officer then, isn't it? Smith might have bumped into you at the office, if you weren't off solving cases on your own."
"I knew you'd bring that up."
"What were you thinking?" demanded Harriet. "You can't just put on a uniform and—"
"I had to get out of the office, Harriet. You try sitting around all day writing essays for Bernie."
"I don't have to. I finished high school."
"I wish I'd had the chance," muttered Alice.
They both fell silent.
"What did you tell Smith?" asked Alice at last.
"I said I didn't recognise you, and I told him there was no record of you ever having visited Dismolle. He said your real name was—"
"Don't!" said Alice sharply. "I just … I don't want to hear it."
"Okay, okay."
"I … I can still hear my uncles voice in my head, screaming my name. And then … just screaming." Alice frowned. "My uncle didn't die quickly. I think Smith wanted something from him. I don't remember much, but he—"
"Don't torture yourself," said Harriet quietly. "Try not to think about it."
"Like that ever works." Alice looked down at the table. "It could be about money."
"Did your uncle leave you anything?"
"Just debts. And it's not like I own anything." Alice picked up one of the cakes, stared at it, then put it back on the plate. "It has to be money, Harriet. I've had no contact with any of my family since I was eight. All the times I was bounced from one children's home to another, nothing. All the times my latest foster parents handed me back like an unwanted birthday gift, nothing."
"I'm sorry. I know you had it rough, but I had no idea it was that bad."
"Yeah, well. Young offender, broken home … it's all one big cliche, isn't it."
"You never talk about it."
"Of course not! It's ancient history." Alice pulled a face. "Well, it was until that murderer Smith showed up."
Harriet remembered the way her bag had been lying on its side in the office. She didn't know for sure that Smith had searched it, and for all she knew the thing might have fallen over. Best not to mention it, she decided. "You know, he's probably left the planet by now."
"Some chance. He didn't turn up here at random, he followed me. And that means he's gone through my entire history, working out everywhere I've been right up to this moment. He knows I'm here, Harriet. And he … he's not going to give up." Alice looked at her. "That training gun, the one in the armoury…"
"No."
"Harriet, it might save my life."
"I'm not arming a fifteen-year-old, and that's final."
"Who said anything about me? I want you to carry it. That way, if he tries to get to me—"
"Bernie would blow a fuse if I started carrying that gun around. You know that."
"She wouldn't know if you locked the case afterwards. You do know the combination, don't you? Do you have it written down somewhere?"
"Yeah, and I'm not sharing it."
Alice managed a weak grin. "I'll get into that case eventually, just like I got into the armoury."
Harriet didn't doubt it. "Look, I'll think about the gun, but I'm not promising anything. I pulled a car over this afternoon and got chewed out for it, and I don't need—"
"Wow. Bernie told her golden-haired favourite off?"
"It wasn't Bernie, it was some tough old bird from the Residents' Association. And if someone reports me carrying a weapon around on this planet, it won't be Bernie chewing me out. The higher-ups will probably drag me off to headquarters for a proper hearing."
"Where is HQ, anyway? Nobody ever mentions it."
"Bernie deals with them. She says trainees aren't allowed to call them, but I bet they can call us." Harriet frowned. "I can't lose this job, Alice. It's everything I have."
"I know, same here. Look, don't worry about the gun. I'll buy a bat or a club or something from the sports shop."
Harriet eyed the expensive cakes. "Yes, about that. Come into some money, did you?"
"Or something."
Alice's expression was innocent, but that only made Harriet more suspicious. She didn't pursue it, though. "All right, pack that lot up and we'll head home."
Alice shook her head. "First the sports shop, then home. I meant it about the club."
Harriet remembered Smith's hard expression, and silently agreed with her.
Ten minutes later they were sitting in a cab, heading to her apartment. Alice was carrying a huge bat from some sport Harriet had never heard of, with a long rubber-clad handle and a thick wooden blade. It looked pretty damned solid, and she reckoned it would do a lot of damage. Judging from Alice's expression, she was more than ready to use it. She'd even given it a name: the Smith-basher.
They left the cab and took the elevator to her floor, strolling down the carpeted hallway to her front door. When they got there, she reached out with her access card … and froze.
The door was ajar.
— ♦ —
Harriet reacted instantly, thrusting her arm out to hold Alice back. She put a finger to her lips, and gently eased the apartment door open a couple of inches. She had no intention of going in, she just wanted to know if anyone was inside.
The apartment was deathly quiet.
It had to be Smith, of course. He had searched her bag, and he must have found something with her address on. Alice's idea about the gun had been right after all, and Harriet wished she'd thought of it herself.
The only positive was that Smith had been wearing an empty holster when he came to the office. If he'd left the gun aboard his ship, he was unarmed too. She didn't like their chances though, not even with Alice brandishing her new bat.
"Let's rush him," whispered Alice, as though her bat gave her some kind of immunity. "I'll knock his head off."
"Shh!"
