"Emecheta?"
"Yes. Could I have handled him?"
"You would have been raped," said Dumarest flatly. "Then you'd have been robbed. You could even have been killed."
"He's that bad?"
"He's filth." Dumarest poured himself a glass of water. "Order some food. You brought what I asked?"
"Yes. Why do you want it, Earl?"
"Later. First let us eat."
She ordered wisely, dishes high in protein and low in bulk, foods giving high energy and among the most expensive the place offered. Dumarest refused the offer of wine and finished the meal with fruit.
"Emecheta is scum," he said as they sat over coffee. "But you weren't robbed when you gained his name. The dealer you mentioned, Pude Ahdram?"
"Yes. I could have told you that, Earl, but I-"
"Couldn't trust me and didn't want me cutting in." He was brusque with his interruption. "But let's waste no more time. He deals with anyone who has items of value and does a brisk trade with those from the field. Contraband and anything which shows a profit or so Emecheta claimed. He could be lying but I don't think so. We can use him."
"How?" She blinked as he told her. "Give him my music cube and jewelry? Earl, are you serious?"
"I'll tell him I've stolen them. He'll take them to Ahdram for sale. If what he told me is true, the dealer will buy if the price is right. Then you go into his shop, quest around, ask for something unusual and keep looking until he produces the cube. Then create a fuss, tell him the cube is yours, that it was stolen with other things, talk about summoning the authorities. There's no law in the Maze but there's plenty at the field and elsewhere in town. He'll want to avoid an investigation."
"And I press him," she said slowly. "And keep on pressing until he tells me what I want to know. The name and whereabouts of the artist Earl-"
"Do you know a better way?"
"No," she admitted. "But I'm not sure if I can handle it. I'm not strong enough. I lack aggression. How can I, a woman, force information from a man like that?"
"You're an actress."
"No, Earl, a dancer."
"And when dancing you acted a part, right?" He lifted her hand and flexed her fingers. "And never think of yourself as weak. I've seen you, remember? Felt your strength."
Muscles like coiled springs beneath the silken olive of her skin; tissue teamed and developed to meet the needs of a demanding art. The strength which had gripped him as the lissome thighs had closed, joining the restraint of her arms, her hands. A strength born of physical passion but anger could provide as good a stimulus and determination even a greater.
"We must try," he said gently. "You must try."
"And if I fail? You will help me, Earl?"
To join in the argument, to make himself conspicuous and to advertise his presence to those who watched the field and its environs. A stupidity he intended to avoid.
"If you fail well try something else," he promised. "Just do your best and if he doesn't play along summon the authorities and accuse him of receiving stolen goods. You can prove ownership?"
"Yes. The cube holds a thousand recordings many of which I can name in sequence. And I insured the jewelry on arrival."
"Good. Then there should be no trouble." Dumarest glanced through the windows; already it was close to noon. "We'd best hurry."
"I'll go to the shop," she decided. "Linger as if I'm a tourist killing time. When Emecheta enters I'll follow him." Remembering she added, "How will I know him? We've never met."
"Squat, hairy, repulsive." Dumarest finished his coffee. "You'll know him by his smell if nothing else, but enter before he does if you can. Ahdram will be unwilling to leave you alone for long and so will be quick to settle the deal. And it might help if you primed him."
"With talk of a music cube? Leave it to me, Earl." Then, anticipating his doubt she added, smiling, "I'm a dealer, too, remember. You can't trade in items of value without learning the art of misdirection. Where shall I meet you?"
"Here." He rose to his feet. "Give me an hour to meet Emecheta and pass on the goods."
"You'll be close?"
"Yes," he promised. "I'll be close."
Close enough to see the squat man waddle to the shop of Pude Ahdram eager to make an easy profit and already, no doubt, figuring out ways to cheat his mysterious partner, dose enough to have seen the woman enter shortly before, to have seen her casual approach and to have admired her skill at appearing other than what she was. Close enough to have spotted the men who stood and watched and moved only to take up fresh positions so as to watch again.
Watch and move in when their quarry had been spotted and Dumarest had no doubt as to who that was.
He turned, glancing into windows, hesitating, moving on with a calculated speed. A man who was not in a hurry, who watched no particular point, who was just an aimless traveler killing time. Yet, always, he watched the shop.
Sardia was taking her time. Twice he caught glimpses of her through the barred windows, talking, gesticulating, presenting a show of enthusiasm over some trifle, shaking her head over another. A skilled practitioner of a difficult art, that of deluding another that what was wanted was of no interest and of little worth.
A dancer turned dealer-where had she learned to lie so well?
There was time to think about it as there was time to think of other things. Of the men in scarlet who even now were predicting just where and when he would be, what he would do, what path he would take. Plotting his course with growing accuracy as his movements left traces which could be garnered and included into the common whole. Cybers who, given the data, could pinpoint his presence at a particular place at a particular time.
Unless he could defeat them as he had so often before.
Unless the luck which had saved him should suddenly run out.
But luck, as he never ceased to remember, came in two kinds-the bad and the good.
And now it seemed time for the bad.
It was on Sardia's face as, finally, she stepped from the shop, hands empty of her possessions. Dumarest moved quickly to remain out of sight, following her as she headed toward the rendezvous, catching her up when he was certain she had not been followed.
"Earl!" She looked up as he caught her arm. "I thought we were to meet in the restaurant."
"I changed my mind." A cab halted at his signal. "We'll go to Dekart Heights."
It was a place of scented shrubs and flowering trees, of emerald sward dotted with the fallen stars of golden blooms. A lake stretched beyond a park set with miniature pavilions graced with fretted pennants and hung with chiming bells. A place for lovers wishing to be alone. For conspirators afraid of being overheard.
"Earl!" she said as he guided her to a seat. "Oh, Earl!"
"You failed-it is written on your face."
"No, that is, I-" She calmed beneath the touch of his hand. "Luck, my darling, a coincidence, but they happen and when they do so many problems can be solved."
And so many created, but he didn't mention that.
"What happened?"
He listened as she told him, the chime of bells a delicate accompaniment to her voice. She had entered the shop as planned and, as expected, Ahdram had remembered her from her previous visit. But the man had not been alone. Another was with him with paintings for sale.
"I recognized them, Earl. The technique is unmistakable. The work of the artist I need to find."
Need? A subconscious betrayal which Dumarest noted.
"So everything was simple. You asked the man who the artist was and where to find him."
"No. As I told you things aren't done that way in the field of art. Even to admit to an interest is to arouse suspicion that the work is of higher value than previously thought."