"'Now?' Has he wanted anything from you in the past?"
Wenithal frowned. "We've done business before. I admit, he's never sent his security people to negotiate a new contract, but…"
"Nothing. I'm not here at his behest. I'm following up on something else, unrelated to the company."
"What would that be?"
"I'm told that you're the man to see about baleys."
"Who told you that? It wasn't Brun."
"A mutual acquaintance."
Wenithal shrugged. "Suit yourself. I don't know anything about it."
"I could check. "
Wenithal sighed. "I'm assuming you checked me out before you came in here. You know what I used to do. What I know stems from my investigations as a law enforcement officer. Most of that information is several years out of date. I'm really not interested in rehashing old cases with you. "
"Old cases often refuse to go quietly into a file. Especially if they're big enough."
"And are mine big enough?"
Coren shrugged.
"You threatened Brun over this. You are the same man who spoke with him earlier, aren't you? What particularly do you want?"
"Names. Who were you investigating?"
"You don't know what you want, do you?"
"I hoped you might be able to help me narrow it down. I'm looking for a baley runner, the one who makes all the arrangements with the shippers before the runners themselves shunt their cargoes."
"A particular one, I imagine." Wenithal smiled sardonically. "Actually, at one time I was investigating your Mr. Looms. "
"For what?"
"It didn't prove out. His name was on a list. You know how that goes. It was coincidental."
"So why mention it?"
"Just to remind you that we all have files. What would someone find in yours?"
"Less than you might expect. I've had a fairly dull career."
Wenithal looked surprised, then laughed. "My cases are all a matter of public record-you could look for yourself. Why bother me?"
"What I'm looking for won't be in your case logs. For one thing, I doubt very much if the people I'm interested in are part of the public record."
"Why not?"
Coren felt his patience fray. "Is this a test?"
Wenithal shook his head. "You've come into my business, you've asked questions that could be construed as accusatory, you've made requests you have no right to make and no authority to push through. I haven't heard one thing yet to convince me that I shouldn't call the police and have you escorted out."
"Nova Levis."
Wenithal's face hardened. His reaction lasted less than a second, but Coren recognized it and it surprised him. Dropping the name of the colony had been a gamble; Wenithal could easily have feigned ignorance. Instead, Wenithal now took this seriously. Coren wished he knew why.
"This had been slightly amusing till now," Wenithal said. "Leave. I no longer have any involvement in anything that might help you, and I resent the implication that I should. I'm a businessman. A legitimate businessman."
"Yes, well, you're in imports and exports. Coincidence?"
"Not at all. I learned quite a bit about the industry working on certain cases. When I retired it was easy to slip right into it. Now leave. This interview is over."
"That's unfortunate. I felt certain we could help each other."
"Why would you think that?"
"You said it yourself: I scared Brun. He came to you before anyone else. Why was that? Paternal advice?"
"As odd as it may seem, yes."
Coren raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really. Well, if that is indeed the case, then perhaps we should both be concerned about the same thing. If I compromised him and you have his interests at heart, then-"
"If this is unrelated to Rega Looms, what is it related to? What's your concern in any of this?"
"I didn't say it wasn't related to Looms, I said it wasn't related to his company. "
"Ah. Campaign stuff? You're private security, so part of your job is to clean up embarrassments. Let me guess-his daughter is in trouble. "
"Why would you guess that?"
Wenithal shrugged. "Rumors. I hear things still. Conversations with old friends. She runs baleys, does she?"
"Not anymore. She's dead."
Coren had not planned to tell anyone, but he wanted to see Wenithal's reaction. He was not disappointed. Wenithal looked surprised and, for a moment, vulnerable. The bluster and firmness of the ex-cop vanished, replaced by an expression of informed terror. It metamorphosed slowly into a mask of sympathy and sadness.
"I'm…very sorry to hear that…" He turned away and muttered something more.
"What was that?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I was just-my condolences to Mr. Looms. How-?"
"Running baleys. "
"I see…yes, I can see that you would be interested. I'm very sorry, Mr. Lanra." He sat down. "I can't help you. I wish I could, but I'm long out of it. All I could give you are rumors."
"Rumors are often more reliable."
"Pah! Police superstition. You hope rumors are more reliable because usually they're all you get. When I was working I'd have taken a solid fact over rumor any day." Wenithal looked up, the wall back in place. "Now if you don't mind, I have a business to take care of. I'm not a policeman anymore. I did that for twenty-two years. No more. Go away." Coren wanted to return to his private office and begin reviewing Wenithal's career. Instead, he took the tubeway west, to Delfi. From Wenithal's place it was only forty-five kilometers to Looms' hotel.
What is it about a Settler colony that would spook an ex-cop like that? His mention of Nova Levis had disturbed Wenithal. If he was part of a baley-running scheme, it might make sense. And if Nova Levis was the name that rattled him, then maybe he was the contact Nyom went through, in which case Coren would visit him again.
He dozed on the short ride, uneasily, the image of Nyom dangling broken-necked from the ceiling of that bin an unwelcome intrusion.
He tucked the earpiece of his portable comm in his left ear and keyed his office. The Desk answered.
"I want you to search police files for the case logs of Wenithal, Ree. Especially his last few cases and anything that might relate to baleys and baley running. Anything on Yuri Pocivil?" he asked sotto voce.
"Public records search positive result," the Desk reported. "Pocivil, Yuri. Immigrant, work-pass issued six years ago. Originally from the Settler colony Cassus Thole. Resident of Petrabor District for the last four years. Employee of Improvo Shipping and Storage, Petrabor branch, last three years eight months. Current status, indefinite sickleave. Current location unknown. "
Sick leave. Dead more likely, Coren thought sourly. He said, "Is there an image attached?"
"Yes, sir."
"Forward all this to Sipha Palen on Kopernik Station and continue search, locate. Any new messages?"
"New message from Myler Towne. Do you wish to hear it?"
"No. File." He hesitated. Then: "Make an appointment for me to see my physician, earliest convenience. End link." He plucked the earpiece out and tucked it back in the slot on the side of his comm.
Yuri Pocivil was a settler. Unusual for them to return to Earth. Unless he had been born on Cassus Thole and thought Earth had more to offer. It was easy to forget that the entire Settler program was less than two centuries old, with so many emigrants leaving Earth all the time.
He wondered who owned Improvo Shipping and Storage… Rega Looms' entourage filled two floors of the Banil-Holbro, in the center of the theater district in Delfi. Coren stepped off the walkway directly onto the broad plaza fronting the polished false stone-and-gilt facade of the hotel.
Two of Coren's people stood just inside talking to the bellcaptain. Their laughter seemed distant and muffled in the lobby.
Both of them straightened when they saw Coren.
"Boss," Shola said. "Back from vacation?"
"No, don't worry, I'm not back yet," Coren said. "Where's Rega?"
The other one-New man, Coren thought for a moment. What's his name? Lukas-came up alongside him and they walked a few paces from the bellcaptain.