Sideburns made a face. "She wants to know where," he said into the UniLink. He listened a moment, then nodded. "It's on Brum-a-dum."
"No police, no curious bystanders, no awkward questions," Mustache added.
"That helps," Alison said. Brum-a-dum was the planet where Jack had briefly been made a slave a couple of months back. Interesting that whoever was chasing Virgil Morgan had also picked that world to—
Her throat seemed to squeeze shut. Someone currently on Brum-a-dum. Someone looking for Virgil Morgan. Someone who desperately needed a safe opened.
Arthur Neverlin.
Oh, no, she thought, her heart suddenly racing. No no no no no.
"You'll get twenty thousand for doing the job," Sideburns went on. "Any equipment you need will also be provided."
And if that was Neverlin on the other end of the conversation, that meant the safe had to be one of the ones from Draycos's advance team, containing the rendezvous data for the main fleet. The information Neverlin needed if he was going to destroy the refugees.
The same information Jack and Draycos needed if they were going to save them. "Must be a tricky safe," she managed.
"Very tricky," Sideburns agreed, his voice darkening. "I trust you weren't going to try to talk up the price?"
That had, in fact, been exactly what Alison had been planning to do. It would be expected of a professional thief.
But one look at Sideburns's face and she changed her mind. "Twenty is fine," she said. "But I also want private passage away from there when I'm done, someplace like Capstone or Glitter. Brum-a-dum isn't a place I want to get stuck on."
An actual, real smile touched Sideburns's lips. "I don't blame you," he said. "Don't worry, they'll make sure you get out of there."
Alison felt a shiver run through her. Yes, they'd get her off Brum-a-dum all right.
But not to some nice, safe, civilized world. More likely to some nice, quiet, lonely grave. "Okay, it's a deal," she said. "How do I get there?"
For a minute, Sideburns listened to the UniLink, his forehead creased with concentration. "Yes, sir," he said. "Yes, sir. Don't worry—we'll be there."
Shutting off the device, he put it away. "The boss has a ship he can divert this way," he told Mustache. "It'll be in the system in four hours—I've got the coordinates for a quiet rendezvous."
"Fine." Mustache pointed at the shoulder bag. "What about this?"
"Might as well send it along," Sideburns said. "Unless it's full of money."
Mustache opened it and peered inside. "Old newspaper and magazine clippings, copies of bills of lading and invoices, and a few fuzzy photos," he reported, sifting through the contents. "And a couple of data tubes. No money."
"In that case, send it along," Sideburns said. "The boss might like to see what Morgan's been hiding all these years."
Mustache handed the bag to Alison. Looping the strap over her shoulder, she scooped up the rest of her personal belongings from the table and stuffed them back into her various pockets. She reached for her comm clip—
Mustache's hand got there first. "I'll take this," he said. He started to put it in his pocket, then paused. "Let's check, shall we, just for the fun of it?" Clicking it on, he held it to his own collar. "Hello, Virgil?"
Alison held her breath. But from the wry pucker of Mustache's lips she could tell that Uncle Virge had anticipated this possibility. "I see you like classical music," he said. "Beethoven, isn't it?"
He handed the comm clip to her. Alison held it against her collar, to find that Uncle Virge had piped in the feed from one of Semaline's music broadcasts. "Schubert, actually," she said, starting to fasten it back on.
"Don't bother," Mustache said, taking back the clip and shutting it off again as he put it into his pocket. "There won't be any news or music broadcasts for you to listen to along the way."
"Come on, girl," Sideburns said, gesturing toward the door. "You're in the big time now. Don't want to keep them waiting."
Alison shivered. "No," she murmured. "Of course not."
CHAPTER 5
The stone bridge was just steep enough that Jack decided he didn't want to try walking down it face first. Instead, he backed his way down, wondering whether this was the sort of thing a grand exalted Jupa would do.
By the time he reached the ground, a half-dozen Golvins had gathered at the foot of the bridge. One of them, who Jack tentatively identified as the one who had first accosted him at the spaceport, was clutching a handful of small notebooks. "Jupa Jack," he said, his eyes bright. "I bring you the lists."
"Thanks," Jack said, eyeing the notebooks with a sinking feeling. Specs and records from the mine Draycos had spotted upstairs? "Just, uh, just put them in my apartment, will you?"
"As you wish, Honored Jupa," the other said, selecting one of the notebooks and handing it to him. "I thought you might wish to study the list of uprights right away."
"Good idea," Jack said, opening it to a page at random. There was nothing but lists of numbers down the left-hand side of each page, along with some sort of chicken scratchings beside them that was probably the local writing.
"We have not yet had time to translate them into Broad-speak," the Golvin said apologetically. "But rest assured that all those listed are uprights. And the lists themselves have all been done in Broadspeak, as the Jupa Stuart taught us to do."
"That's good," Jack said. He eyed the list of numbers again, a sneaking suspicion beginning to tug at him. If the head man here was called the One . . . "What's your name, by the way?"
"I am One-Four-Seven Among Many," the Golvin said proudly. "But if your wisdom shows the path, I may soon be raised to a higher—"
"Onfose!" one of the others cut him off, clearly shocked. "How dare you suggest such a thing?"
One-Four-Seven—Onfose?—cringed. "I meant nothing, Nionei," he said hastily. "I merely meant—"
"You will allow Jupa Jack to make his own decisions, at his own time, in his own way," Nionei said firmly. "And not with you and he alone, but with all present and sided."
"Of course," Onfose said. "My most abject apologies, Jupa Jack."
"He really does mean no harm," the critic said, still looking a little cross as he glared at Onfose. "But you will note his name does not appear among the uprights."
Jack flipped a few pages over. Sure enough, between 135 and 177 there were no entries. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "If you'll take the rest of the notes to my apartment as I asked, I'd like to walk around a little. Get a feel for the place."
"As you desire, Honored Jupa," Onfose said. "Do you wish an escort?"
"So that you can try again to speak your side?" one of the other Golvins asked dryly.
"I don't think I'll get lost," Jack assured him. Picking a direction at random, he set off, making sure to stay on the paths and off the crop plants. The Golvins, to his quiet relief, made no move to follow.
"Interesting," Draycos murmured from his shoulder as Jack reached one of the narrow irrigation channels and took a long step over it. "Did you notice how they form their names?"
"What names?" Jack countered. "They're nothing but a bunch of numbers."
"Though the listing is apparently not simply by birth order or any such random assignment," Draycos pointed out. "Recall that Onfose appeared to think a decision by you could change his number."
Jack thought back to the conversation. "Okay, I guess I can buy that," he said. "So they're ranked by status or position or nearness to the throne. Or whatever the One sits on."
"Note too how they simplify the awkwardness of long numbers," Draycos went on. "They take the first two letters of each number and form a name from them."