Less than a minute later, a meter of black fabric oozed from the 'machine into the trough. The cutter came down with a heavy thud to chop it off, and Coren picked up the sample.
It was remarkably thin, almost insubstantial, and he found it difficult to hold, its surface friction nearly nonexistent. He managed to fold it down to a square that fit into his pocket with no more bulge than a handkerchief.
He walked away from RW Enterprises as if he were late for an appointment, briskly but not so fast as to look culpable. Outside the mall, he called Ariel. Ree Wenithal lived modestly for his income. His apartments occupied two floors of an old warren complex that had once been a barracks for factory workers, then converted into luxury apartments nearly a century ago, and now had evolved into many things: apartments, clinics, retail shops, storerooms, offices. Coren was amused to find two private investigation agencies listed.
Ariel waited across from the arched entry to Wenithal's warren, sitting at an autochef with a cup of hot cocoa, doing a reasonably effective imitation of someone who had just gotten off-shift and on her way to well-earned sleep.
"Did you follow him all the way in?" Coren asked; sliding onto the stool beside her.
"No. I'm not altogether certain he didn't see me, so I thought I'd better not. Did you find anything?"
"Some, but I'm not sure if it means much. He runs a business." Coren shrugged. "He's paying bribes to Chassik."
Ariel frowned. "He does business with Solarians?"
"A couple. Pretty big accounts."
"Solaria manufactures its own textiles. What are they buying from Earth?"
"A half-million meters a year of a synthetic." He showed her the sample. "If I'm not mistaken, this is myralar."
Ariel ran a finger over its slippery surface. "I'd have to analyze it, but it feels right. Hm. Half a million meters a year? That's a lot, but not enormous." She shook her head. "Maybe I'll ask Chassik."
Coren drummed his fingers on the counter. "I've got his P amp;L records, we can go over them later. I don't think we'll find anything conclusive, though. He was bribing Damik, too. The bribe is unusually large, more than I would have guessed Damik would be worth."
"Did Damik have something over Wenithal?"
"It's a thought…but that's not the feeling I got when I followed Damik to his meeting with Wenithal. Everything about it said Wenithal was the one in charge." He glanced at her cup. "Are you done?"
Ariel held up the cocoa and wrinkled her nose. "Before I started. Let's go talk to your ex-policeman."
They passed under the archway and started down a path lined with poorly-tended shrubbery. A number of the growl amps above them were out. Coren glanced around the area, and frowned.
"What's wrong?" Ariel asked.
"Hm? Oh. Nothing…" He glanced up at the tall windows to his right. Balconies and walkways hung higher up. "That's not true. I'm not sure if I can explain it."
"Try. I'm always eager to learn new things."
Coren looked at her. He saw no sign of sarcasm in her expression. Indeed, she seemed intent only on their surroundings.
"Well," he said, "usually when someone has a connection to a case-I'm talking like Service now-you might find someone through one source, one link, but when you look, if there is a connection, there's more than just one."
"And with Ree Wenithal?"
"There are suggestions of more connections, but I still have only one: Brun Damik. And his connection was tenuous."
"Until he died."
"That was a pretty strong hint, but not really a connection."
She frowned at him. " Just what do you count as a connection?"
"Something with steel cables tying it to something else."
"Isn't that a bit unrealistic?"
Coren stopped. Ariel continued on a few more steps, then turned to him.
"Early on," he said, "I arrested an innocent man. It wasn't a big deal, nothing bad happened to him, he just spent a few nights in confinement, went through a lot of humiliating interrogations and filled out a lot of forms. It was a mistake. I think I felt worse about it than he did."
"So you vowed never to make a mistake again?"
"No, but I got into certain habits after that. I made fewer mistakes. I became pretty good at it. And I got overconfident. "
"And made a big mistake."
"Very. It cost me the life of a friend."
"You're talking about Nyom Looms."
Coren nodded.
Ariel pursed her lips. "High standards are good."
They continued on to Wenithal's apartment in silence.
The door stood open.
"Come in," Wenithal called. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get here. ". Ree Wenithal sat on a long couch, slippered feet propped on a low table, a glass in his left hand and a pistol in his right. He scowled at them for a long moment, then laughed.
"You! I thought it would be someone else." He set the pistol aside. "Close the door if you're staying."
Ariel pressed the contact.. The light from the balcony shrank to a narrow line and vanished.
The room smelled of alcohol.
"So," Wenithal said, "did you go through my files?"
Coren hesitated.
"My career," Wenithal said, stressing each syllable. "My exploits. They're all in the public record. They'll tell you all about me, about my life, my accomplishments, my…my…" He waved a hand vaguely. "Everything."
"I looked at them," Coren said.
Wenithal waited. When Coren said nothing more, he got ponderously to his feet. "Are you going to introduce me to your partner? Oh, if you want a drink, help yourselves. I keep a good stock. Even some Spacer stuff."
"Brun Damik is dead," Coren said.
Wenithal nodded. "I was questioned about it."
"Uh-huh. Do you have any idea why he was killed?"
"Do you?"
Coren crossed the room in four strides and snapped his palm into Wenithal's chest. The older man sat back down heavily, his wind wheezing from his mouth.
"We were attacked earlier tonight," Coren said. "I'm in no mood for repartee, Mister Wenithal, so do me the courtesy of answering my questions directly."
"I don't have to tell you shit," Wenithal said breathily.
"Fine. Then when the people you were expecting come to kill you, I hope you have some friends to attend the services."
Wenithal glared up at Coren, but his eyes wavered moistly and Coren caught the distant shimmer of fear behind them.
"Something killed Nyom Looms and Brun Damik and fifty baleys who just wanted to get off Earth," he continued. "Something tried to kill me tonight, and something is coming after you. You used to be a cop. Pretend you still are for the next ten minutes and do the right thing." He paused. "Or do you already know who these people are?"
Wenithal tried to heave himself up, but Coren rapped him in the sternum again. "You're a bastard," Wenithal hissed.
"Do you know that for a fact, or just speculating?"
Wenithal slapped at Coren half-heartedly, missing. Coren watched the old man warily, but it was obvious Wenithal would do very little now.
"What do you want?" he asked grumpily.
"The same thing I wanted the first time we spoke: information."
"I don't have any to give you."
"Bullshit." Coren wanted to shake Wenithal. "How long would you have played games like this when you were a cop?"
"When I wasn't pretending, you mean?" Wenithal grunted. "I wouldn't have played them at all. " He shrugged, tried to sit up straighter, then nodded. "All right…what do, you want to know first?"
Coren picked up Wenithal's glass and smelled it: Akvet. A Theian drink, a variation on absinthe. No wonder Wenithal was so intoxicated so quickly.
"What were you going to do when the bad guys came?" Coren asked. "Play dead?"
"Very funny…"
Coren looked at Ariel. "Would you see if there's any stimulant around? Coffee, capvitane, sniff, whatever."
Ariel raised an eyebrow speculatively, then nodded and headed further into the apartment.
"There's coffee," Wenithal called after her. He looked up at Coren. "What do you want to know?"