the clearance check in the postern guardhouse. It should have been a formality. I had been arriving at the same time almost every day for the last seventy-five. I even recognised some of the guardsmen by sight.
But still, it was like the first time I had ever been there. Papers were not only stamped, but read thoroughly and ran through an anti-counterfeit auspex. My rosette was scrutinised and tagged. The duty officer voxed my details through to the main building to get authorisation.
'Doesn't this ever bore you?' I asked one of the desk officers as I waited, folding my papers back into my leather wallet.
'Doesn't what bore me, sir?' he asked.
I hadn't seen Ibbet since the first week. I'd been rotated between a number of supervisors. One told me it was because of shift changes, but I knew it was because none of them liked to deal with an inquisitor. Especially a persistent one.
That morning, it was Major Revll who escorted me in. Revll, a surly young man, was new to me.
'How can I assist you, sir?' he asked curtly.
I sighed.
Open log books and data-slates were piled around the workstation where I had abandoned them the night before. Revll was already calling for a clerk to tidy them away and make space for me before I could explain that I'd made the mess in the first place.
He looked at me warily. 'You've been here before?' I sighed again.
I had two hours. At eleven, I was due to meet Inshabel and Bequin and fly out to a village on one of the islands in the Caducades to investigate a rumour that a man there knew something about smuggling. Another waste of time, I was sure.
I started in on the air-traffic day-book, reading through the lists of orbital transfers for a summer day two years earlier. Halfway down the slate was an entry showing a shuttle transfer from an orbiting ship to a landing field near Kasr Gesh. Gesh was near to one of the pylons frequented by the Sons of Bael. Moreover, on checking, I realised the date put it three days before the last incident of cult activity at the pylon.
I stoked up the data-engine, and requested further information on the entry. I was immediately denied. I used a higher decrypt key, and was shown a report that withheld both the name of the ship and the source of its authority. I began to get excited, and scrolled down. Even the purpose of the visit was restricted.
Now I typed in the teeth of my highest decrypt key. The terminal throbbed and chattered, sorting through files and authorisations.
The name came up. My elation peaked, and plunged away.
Neve. The mysterious entry had been a record of a classified mission by the inquisitor general. Back to square one.
The island was cold and bare. A small fishing community clung to the rim of the western bay. Inshabel swung the speeder down onto the cobbled tideway where spread nets had gone stiff with ice.
'How much longer, Gregor?' Bequin asked me, winding her scarf around her throat.
'How much longer what?'
'Until we give up and leave? I'm so sick of this fate-forsaken world.'
I shrugged. 'Another week. Until Candlemas. If we haven't found anything by then, I promise we'll say goodbye to Cadia/
The three of us trudged up the icy walk to a grim tavern overlooking the sea wall. Anchor fish, as tall as men, were hung outside, salted and drying in the winter air.
The barman didn't want to know us, but his steward brought us drinks and led us through to a back parlour. He admitted that he had sent the message about the smuggler. The smuggler was here to meet us, he said.
We entered the back parlour. A man sat by the roaring grate, warming his jewelled fingers at its flames. I smelled cologne.
'Good morning, Gregor,' said Tobias Maxilla.
Despite the shouting coming from the back parlour, the steward brought us herb omelettes and bowls of steaming zar-fin broth, along with a bottle of fortified wine.
'Are you going to explain?' asked Inshabel tersely.
'Of course, dear Nathun, of course/ Maxilla replied, pouring a careful measure of wine into each glass.
'Be patient.'
'Now, Tobias!' I snapped.
'Oh/ he said, seeing my look. He sat back. 'I confess I have become despondent these last few weeks. You've been so busy and I've just been waiting up there on the
He sat back, sipping his glass, looking disgustingly pleased with himself.
'You smuggled yourself onto the planet to prove it could be done?' asked Bequin slowly.
He nodded. 'My shuttle's hidden in the spinneys behind the village. It's amazing how many zipped mouths and blind eyes you can buy with a purse of hard cash round here/
'I don't know what to say/ I said.
He made an open-handed gesture. 'You told me weeks ago that the Interior Guard recognised no illegal or suspect immigration. Well, I'm here today – literally – to prove that claim wrong. Cadia's a tough nut to crack, I'll admit. One of the toughest I've faced in a long and naughty career. But not impossible, as you see/
I sank my wine in a single gulp. 'I should sever my links with you for this, Tobias. You know that/
'Oh, pooh, Gregor! Because I've shown up the Cadian Interior Guard as a bunch of fools?'
'Because you've broken the law!'
'Ah ah ah! No, I haven't. Bent it, possibly, but not broken it. My presence here is entirely legal, under both Cadian local and Imperial general law/
'What?'
'Come on, my old friend! Why do you think my shuttle wasn't blasted out of the heavens this morning by eager Cadian lightning jockeys? That was a rhetorical question by the way. Answer… because when the interceptors came scrambling up to meet me, I broadcast the right security clearance, and that contented them/
'But the day codes are privileged! The counter-checks are triple! They are issued only to those with appropriately high credentials. What authority could you possibly have used to get them?'
'Well, Gregor… yours, of course/
* * *
It had been staring me in the face, and it took the grandstanding flamboyance of Maxilla, in his very worst showing-off mode, to reveal it. The reason the Interior Guard had no file on illegal or suspect immigration was because there was nothing of that nature to file. Those that tried to run the strict gauntlet of Cadian security and failed, died. The ones that got through were never noticed.
Because they were using high-level security clearances, masquerading as the sort of official visitor who would not be stopped.
People like me. People like Neve.
