“I’m working on it. Why I called, sources tell me the Kliu have asked the local cop shop to pick up the woman. You’re making it harder when you stir up the locals like that.”
“Cop shop?”
“You know what I mean. How come?”
“What we do is none of your business, srin. What’s taking, you so long to get about yours?”
“You want the Behilarr screwing a joddida humungous fine outta you by way of Helvtia for interfering with a local on her own world? What I’m saying is, back off.”
“And what I’m saying to you, srin, is your brother Mort butchered two Kliu guards a week ago and we’d be stretching him over the nearest mrav-hole if he weren’t in escrow to that miserable family of yours. Don’t push too hard or wait too long, srin. Or what you’ll get back will be well-polished bones.”
The screen blanked.
Worm slumped in the chair, closed his eyes, and just breathed for a while. The good news was that they didn’t have her. He would have cursed. Mort’s stupidity, but one doesn’t curse one’s brother, so he shoved that thought away. He was so tired, and it was clean and cool here on Kanti’s Bridge. He didn’t want to leave; he wanted to crawl in his bunk and sleep for a week.
After a few moments, though, he got to his feet and went down to the flikit’s berth. There were Mort and Xman and Fa to take care of; he had no choice but to go back across the stinking ocean and climb into his stinking life on Zurg’s Star Street and see if Digby’s agent had come up with some new angle.
Flake 10. Audio. EAR in Tank’s Office.
Tank here. Get me on to Grinder.
Grinder here. What’s this about?
The new singer, she’s asking questions about the Elang.
Kliu Spy?
Don’t think so. She’s the real thing when it comes to music and she’s got the kind of background it wouldn’t be easy to set up. Says she’s got a message she needs to pass on private-like; says it’s a favor, so no big deal if it doesn’t happen. What you want me to tell her?
[extended period of silence]
When’s she leave your place?
Hour past midnight. She’s got two more sets to go.
Call her to your office before she leaves and tell her you’ve put word to your Touch over here, but she’s not to talk to anyone else about the Elang. Send her off sweet. Got it?
Got it.
Flake 11. Band 6 Aud/Vid.
Peep in Singer’s LQ.
[Door opens. Krink
Flake 11. Band 13 Aud/Vid.
Peep in the Singer’s LQ
[The singer comes in, stops, sniffs, looks around. Her head stops moving when she sees folder that the men in band 7 had left there. She goes back out, the door.]
“Orrialdy, you around?”
“Shadow, so?” [the voice is faint as if from a distance]
“Think you could bring me up a pot of your tea?”
“That I could. Right now?” [still distant] “If you will. Door’ll be unlocked.”
[Some minutes later a big plushy woman brings in a tray with a pot, a mug and a plate of wafers. The singer is seated at the room’s sole table. She closes the folder as the woman approaches, takes the tray.]
“Thanks, Orrialdy.”
“Well don’t you work too hard, not good for your eyes, dear.”
[As soon as the woman leaves, the singer fills the mug, opens the folder again, and begins studying the papers inside. The peep is at the wrong angle to get a good look at the pages, but they seem to be lists of something. She studies them intently. Time passes. The only sound is the click of the mug against the table when she sets it down, the rustle of paper-until something catches her attention.]
“Sar! First Sapato, now Harmon. Arms dealers I have known. Hm. He dropped a cargo in one of the warehouses, it was picked up three days later by a Chandaya merchanter. Definitely old home week. Note doesn’t say what the cargo was, but are we really baffled? And the answer is no.”
Flake 10. Audio. EAR in Tank’s Office.
Worm stretched,-rubbed his eyes, and considered what he’d seen. “Harmon. What’d I hear about Harmon… gotcha! Arms dealer. Blew his last two sales and is running on debt. Lifting gray freight to keep eating. Looks like Grinder thinks Lylunda was took offworld and has set the spy to figuring out how and who. If she was somewhere in backcountry, he’d have her by now. The Kliu are clueless.” He grinned. “Bad Worm.”
The lift to his spirits was brief, though, and he went back to brooding. “Those lists. Ship landings. If Harmon’s as bad off as they say, he’d sell his grandmother and keep his mouth shut about it.” He glanced at the screen.
The Singer was lifting the harpcase. She slipped the strap over her shoulder and went out. ’The table’s clean. The papers are gone. What’s she up to now? If she’s on the move…” He scowled at the screens set up on the table. Most of his gear was packed in the lockboxes of the flikit; he wanted to be ready to jump when the spy did and figured he wouldn’t have much time for packing. “I can always set up again… leave the EARS and the peeps… you’re working Xman time, Worm. So do what he’d do and jump.”
– He broke down the screens and the flaker, packed them in their case and stowed the case in the flikit. He locked the door and the shed and scurried for Star Street. And almost ran into the spy as he came charging from a sidestreet onto the walkway.
He slowed to an amble, stopped to look into one of the windows of Kautkas’ Anything Shop when the spy paused to talk to Getto. He didn’t have to strain his ears to hear what she said. Announcing it to the world, he thought. She’s definitely got plans.
even look at water. Gonna make another song?”
“Want to. Might. They come when they come, you know.” She fluttered her fingers at him and on her way.
Hiring a flit? Going out over water? Zoll! She’s got it. Found something in those papers. Harmon. That’s it. She’s figured out he’s the one took Lylunda. Bet anything on that. And she’s heading for her ship, going after him…
He snapped his fingers as if he’d forgot something and went hurrying back the way he’d come.
4
As Worm swung the flikit south, skimming just above the long surges of the ocean waves-to avoid being spotted from Haundi Zurgile and chased by the local authorities, he saw a dark seed flying low over the water near the northern horizon. “Must be the spy’s flier.” He clicked on the screen and focused the pickups north-and blinked at the gyrations of that flier; it was swooping in long arcs, racing low enough to cream the water, lifting and darting about like a waterbug having fits.
“What’s all that? Has she lost it?”
The flier turned suddenly and swooped north, vanishing over the horizon. Worm took a chance and sent the flikit higher. He saw the flier swoop toward the first of the island chain, a hump of rock with a tree and some seagrass, dart round it, dive toward the next island. He saw something else, too-another flier hovering over toward the land. “Gotcha. Grinder or the local lice. She knows the watcher is there and she’s holding cover until she can get loose enough to run for the Wild Half.”
He dropped the flikit again and squeezed all the speed out of it that he could manage when he was flying this low. Too bad he couldn’t go up-and-over, but the locals got mean with any unauthorized flights they happened to spot. He understood that. It was a matter of cash; they wanted their passage fees and their storage fees and their taxes.
He’d gotten most of what he needed from the woman, a new target. He was going after Harmon, going to get there first and shoot the clot full of babble, pry out of him where he left the woman and go pick her up. No more fussing about, catering to locals. He didn’t have time for that. He wasn’t happy about having to admit to his father that someone had scooped the smuggler out from under him again, but he needed his father’s sources. Fa would know where Harmon was headed next. He kept up on that kind of thing. Funny how he could, since he was stuck in that Sustainer back on Teripang. The drain of keeping him alive was why Worm and Mort and Xman had to do so much work. More coin. All the time more coin, so Fa could pamper his sources. Sasa, this time for once, that pampering might pay off.