Renne sat at a stool, hung her uniform jacket on a hook just below the counter, and gazed at the long shelves of exotic bottles from all over the Commonwealth. It was the restaurant’s boast that every planet was represented.
“A Rantoon green cherry fizz,” she told the barkeeper, knowing he wouldn’t have it. She was in that kind of mood.
A minute later she had to smile as he produced the tall frosted glass filled with a jade-colored liquid that was as sluggish as chilled vodka. “Salut.” She raised the glass to him. “Can I get a cheeseburger, with bacon, hold the mayonnaise, and fries, not a salad.”
“Certainly, Lieutenant.” He disappeared through a small door and called her order out to the chef. Some comment about the mayonnaise was shouted back in a stream of obscene French.
Renne spread her elbows wide on the bar, and took another sip. It felt wonderfully decadent, drinking something so strong in the middle of the day. She caught a movement in the tarnished mirrors behind the rows of bottles.
“Isn’t it a little early for that kind of drink?” Commander Hogan asked.
“Hi, Chief,” she said, deliberately not sitting up or even looking around. “I figured I can—I’m still in the middle of last night, timewise.”
Hogan’s face puckered into disapproval. He sat next to her, with a grinning Tarlo taking the next stool along.
“You two want to join me?” she asked.
“Mineral water,” Hogan told the barkeeper.
“Beer,” Tarlo said.
“So what was Mars like?”
“Fun,” Tarlo said. “I had a ball driving the transRover. And it’s a weird-looking place, the colors are strange. We saw all the old NASA ships as well. They were falling apart. Sheldon and the Admiral were getting all misty-eyed about them.”
“We found the Reynolds ground station,” Hogan said in a reproving voice.
“The forensic team downloaded every program in its arrays, and we impounded the transmitter equipment for analysis.”
“Impounded.” Renne just managed not to giggle. She had an image of Hogan imperiously waving a court order at a bunch of angry little green men, furious at the navy marching off with their planet’s property.
“Problem?” Hogan asked.
“No, Chief.”
“I understand you left the office while we were away,” he continued. “For most of the time, actually. Did you pick up any leads?”
“Nah! Not one. It was a completely wasted journey. Victor and Bernadette, Isabella’s parents, haven’t got a clue where she is, and frankly don’t show a lot of interest.” The two interviews rankled with her. Warren Yves Halgarth had acted as her escort again; without him she doubted she would even have got in to see Victor. Isabelle’s father wasn’t exactly pleased to see her; his new job as managing director of the Dynasty’s second largest manufacturing bureau was a high-pressure management role. They specialized in force field generators and other high-technology machinery, and as such were one of the thousands of organizations that had suddenly found themselves supplying components to the navy on a crash priority basis. The whole workforce was badly stressed, and it showed. Victor barely knew what his current kids were doing, let alone one who had left home years ago. As for Bernadette, Renne had rarely met anyone who qualified for the title “idle rich” more than Isabella’s mother. The only surprise was that she stayed on EdenBurg, which had little time or space for anyone who wasn’t a hundred percent committed to the work ethic. Warren had explained that Bernadette was one of Rialto’s more renowned society hostesses, throwing parties that attracted a good selection of the corporate and financial elite. That didn’t leave her much time for keeping in touch with children, she hadn’t even known Isabella had disconnected her unisphere address.
“Are there any further leads on Isabella?” Hogan asked.
Renne took another drink of her green cherry fizz, enjoying its cold burn down the back of her throat. “Not direct ones. I thought I’d try and go through her activities on Daroca before she vanished, see if I can find any clues about where she might go. Then there’s Kantil, I could go see her.”
“All right, enough.” Hogan’s hand came down on her wrist, preventing her from lifting her glass. “I don’t want you wasting any more time over this girl. You made your long shot and it didn’t come off. I don’t mind you going out on a limb every now and then, but you have to know when to cut your losses. Understand me, this is that time.”
“There’s something wrong about her.”
“Maybe so, and because of that the warrant still stands. The police will find her eventually, and when they do I’ll authorize you to handle her interrogation yourself. But until that happens, I want you working on our priority cases.”
Renne stared resentfully at his hand; deep inside, the little sensible part of her brain was telling her this wasn’t the issue to make a stand on. “Yeah, okay, Chief.”
“And I certainly don’t want you bothering people like Christabel Halgarth again. If you want to talk to someone that senior in the Grand Families and Dynasties you clear it with me first. There are a lot of political angles in our investigations, not to mention protocols, which should be followed.”
“She was happy to see me.”
“You don’t know what she was thinking. I don’t want a repeat of that incident, understand?”
“Right.” His hand withdrew, and she lifted her glass to her lips. The barkeeper delivered the water and the beer, putting a small bowl of cashew nuts in front of Hogan.
“Our trip produced some very decent results,” Tarlo said. “The forensic guys managed to crack the program routines in the Reynolds arrays. We know what was being encrypted now.”
“What?” Renne asked automatically.
“Every scrap of data from meteorological sensors all over the planet.”
With Hogan distracted by Tarlo, Renne’s finger rose slowly above the rim of her glass, remaining stiff for a couple of seconds. Tarlo saw it, and pressed down on a grin.
“That makes no sense,” she said. “Why would the Guardians be interested in Martian weather? I don’t understand.”
Tarlo gave her his full bright smile. “Me neither.”
“But it’s the kind of solid result we can run with,” Hogan said, glancing back at Renne. “I want the two of you working together to find out what you can. Admiral Kime has given this a very high priority.”
“Figures, with his background,” she grunted, and snatched some of the cashews.
“Okay then,” Hogan said. He drained his mineral water in one. “Have your lunch, Renne, then when you get back to the office this afternoon, I want the two of you heading up this new angle on the Mars investigation. Call in some experts, find out every conceivable application for the meteorological data.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hogan nodded happily, and left them with a wave.
Renne watched him walk out of the restaurant. “What an asshole.”
“To be expected right now,” Tarlo said with a grin. “He had some bad news waiting for him when we got back.”
“Oh?”
“Thought that would cheer you up. Get this, Senate Security has officially requested we begin a covert observation of Alessandra Baron.”
“The celeb?”
“None other.”
“Why?”
“The official reason is that they suspect her of involvement with quote ‘detrimental individuals.’ How about that for covering a multitude of sins. But guess whose name was on the request file.”
Renne’s grin brightened to match Tarlo’s. “The boss.”
“Now do you see why our Great Leader is walking about like he’s got a bug up his ass?”
“Yeah. But that’s no reason for taking it out on me.”