"But—" Schock struggled for words.
"Especially if she sees us as a threat to the whole of Solitaire, and not just to HTI," I put in.
Randon paused in the act of responding to Schock and stared at me. "Does she see us that way?" he asked.
I bit at the inside of my lip. The words had just popped out on their own... but now as I reviewed my sense of Rybakov, I could see that my back-brain had again put pieces together ahead of my conscious mind. "Yes," I told Randon.
"How much of a threat?" Schock asked warily.
"It can't be that bad," Randon put in before I could answer. "Logic, Schock. Our would-be saboteurs must have reported their failure by now; if Rybakov thought we had to be stopped at all costs, Commodore Freitag's men would already have boarded us under some pretext and carted us and the cyls away." His voice turned thoughtful. "Which means she still hopes we'll be reasonable about whatever we're about to find."
I watched him weigh the alternatives and come to a decision. "Move aside, Schock," he ordered, stepping around the desk. A wary look on his face, Schock slid out of the lounge chair. Randon dropped into it, scooping up the other's control stick and waving it at the phone. "Governor's mansion," he instructed the computer.
"Mr. Kelsey-Ramos—"
"Quiet, Schock. Yes, hello, this is Randon Kelsey-Ramos. I'd like to leave a message for Governor Rybakov—no, don't interrupt her dinner, just give her this message. Tell her that her friends dropped something of hers before they left our ship, and that if she wants the items back she can pick them up here in the morning... Yes, personally—I wouldn't think of entrusting them to anyone but her. Thank you."
He waved the stick again and got up off the couch. "And that's that," he said, a note of tension underlying the words. "We'll find out in the morning just how much of a guilty conscience the governor has."
"We won't be here—we're supposed to leave for Collet in the morning," Schock reminded him nervously. Clearly, he considered the whole subject perilously close to social apostasy.
"Then we'll just have to postpone our departure a day or two," Randon told him firmly. "I want to stay here until I know what it is about HTI that has everyone so nervous." He cocked an eyebrow at me. "That's good news for you, of course."
It took me a second to realize what he meant... and then it came back in a rush. What with all the intrigue of the evening, I'd totally forgotten the death sentence hanging over Calandra's head. "Yes, sir, it is. If Governor Rybakov does come here tomorrow, I'd like to be present."
Randon's smile was tight, with a trace of bitterness to it. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm beginning to see just how potent this Watcher addiction is."
The words were bantering... but the hard edge beneath it was anything but. Like his father, Randon saw himself as a staunchly independent man, master of his life and the people around him. Unlike Lord Kelsey-Ramos, he hadn't yet learned that both independence and mastery had limits. "Good night, sir," I said.
"Okay, Schock, to work," I heard Randon say as the door closed behind me. "Let's get those cyls out and see what in blazing chern-fire is in them."
Chapter 10
Kutzko was gone from the gatelock when I returned there. Ifversn, when I asked, directed me to the bridge, a sort of sly amusement about him. Wondering what the joke was, I headed upstairs.
Kutzko was there, all right, sitting beside First Officer Gielincki at the Bellwether's sensor station. "Ah—Gilead," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me before returning his attention to the map spread out in front of him across the control panel.
"Mikha; Officer Gielincki," I said in greeting as I came up behind them. "Am I intruding?"
"Hardly," Gielincki said shortly, not bothering to look around at me. Like most of the Bellwether's crew, she didn't especially like me; unlike many of the others, however, she had both the honesty to recognize her prejudice for what it was and the empathy to feel sorry for me. It gave her an odd and uniquely mixed sense. "—number two just turned again," she said to Kutzko. "North on... must be Shupack Avenue."
"Got it," Kutzko said, making a mark on the map. "We're monitoring our two intruders," he added to me, swiveling around in his chair. "Brad slid a couple of trackspurs into their capelets before he gave them back."
I looked at the display, at the flickering spots and glowing grid there. So that was what had Ifversn so amused. "Rather old-fashioned, isn't that? Not to mention obvious?"
Kutzko shrugged. "Sometimes old methods work just because the other side doesn't expect them." He waved back at the display. "Besides, what's the point of living in a ship instead of a hotel if you don't make use of what the ship can do?"
I studied his face. He was trying far too hard to control it... "Besides which," I suggested, "you found out you couldn't tap into the local police surveillance system without them knowing about it?"
He grimaced. "Something like that," he admitted. "Doesn't really matter—the targets know we're watching. They're just wandering around, killing time probably while they wait for someone who can break them out of our track."
I thought about that. "Then what's the point of doing it?"
"Annoyance value. It bothers them without making any extra work for us."
Gielincki snorted. "Well, it doesn't," Kutzko insisted, a little defensiveness creeping into his sense. "You have to be up here on watch anyway."
"Sure. Number one just turned east. Looks like they're starting to drift toward a common rendezvous point."
"Um." Kutzko made another mark. "I wish I'd had enough men to follow them. Might be nice to see who they meet." He turned back to me. "Was there something you wanted, or you just come up here to watch the show?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you'd gotten that information I asked you for this afternoon," I told him.
"Oh—yeah, sure." He glanced at Gielincki and got up from his chair. "Come on back here—Gielincki hates people talking while she works."
That earned him another snort and a semi-mock glare, both of which he ignored. Together, we walked back to one of the monitor stations flanking the bridge door. "I got your list," he said in a low voice, digging a piece of paper out of an inner pocket, "but I don't think it's going to help you much."
He was right. The list consisted of just four crimes: multiple murder, murder of a police or Pravilo officer in the commission of a Class I crime, death of a kidnap victim, and treason. "This is it?" I asked, checking the paper's other side.
He shrugged. "You're not going to find many other capital crimes anywhere else in the Patri and colonies, either," he reminded me. "And at least one of these has only been made a capital crime since Solitaire opened up. Like Governor Rybakov mentioned earlier, people really don't like the death penalty much."
I nodded heavily. "I know. Well... thanks anyway."
He studied me. "So what are you going to do?"
"Not much I can do. I'll try talking to Governor Rybakov tomorrow morning, see if she can suggest anything."
"Yeah, I heard she was expected. Probably not going to be in the mood for handing out favors, though."
I thought back to the woman's obvious prejudice against religion... and about the fact that Randon was prepared to accuse her of complicity in industrial sabotage. "I can only try."