Heikki ignored them both, and readjusted the minisec’s controls so that it shifted from active to passive security, putting out an inaudible field guaranteed to disrupt most of the bugs commonly used in the Loop and Precincts. Only then did she look at Djuro.
“Sten—”
“Why did you let them go off with our equipment?” Djuro demanded. “Damn it, Heikki, they were just looking for a chance to search it.”
“I know.” Heikki shrugged. “At least, I think I know. Maybe we’re misjudging them.” She could hear how doubtful her own voice sounded, and sighed. “And if they do—they’d’ve found a way anyway, Sten. You know that.”
“They might damage something.”
Nkosi made an odd sound that might have been a snort of laughter. Heikki said, “I doubt it. If they do—we call them on it, Sten, get repair plus the nuisance value, and if necessary, we break contract. We’d have a good argument that they violated the contract first, at any rate.” She paused, staring out through the workroom door at the enormous window that dominated the mainroom. The storm had almost vanished over the western horizon, was little more than a distant line of clouds. The sun streamed across a broad swath of perfectly manicured lawn, drew faint curls of vapor from the vanishing puddles at the edge of the metalled access road. “What I’d really like to know,” she said slowly, “is why they want to search the crates.”
“It doesn’t make good sense,” Djuro agreed. His anger had vanished almost as quickly as it had risen.
“Oh, I can think of quite a few reasons that Lo-Moth might want to search us,” Nkosi began, and Heikki smiled sideways at him.
“But do any of them make sense, Jock?”
“That I cannot promise,” Nkosi answered.
“So you’re saying we should ignore it, Heikki?” Djuro asked.
“For now, yes.” Heikki’s smile widened. “Maybe I’m wrong after all, and they’re just being polite.”
“To an independent?” Djuro murmured.
Heikki ignored him. “If not, think of it as giving them the rope to hang themselves.”
CHAPTER 4
Heikki spent the next few hours at the communications console, arranging for the rental of a fastcat, an on-road machine lighter and faster than a ho-crawl, and eminently suited for city travel. After the encounter with Dael, she was reluctant to run into anyone she’d known from the old days, and was glad to rely on the relative anonymity of the communications net. Only contacting the Explorers’ Club’s local representative required a face to face meeting—ostensibly, she wanted to check what her membership could bring in the way of local privilege; actually, of course, she wanted to tie in to whatever local networks the local representative had managed to infiltrate, and that required a personal touch—and at least the name was not one she recognized.
Ionas Ciceron was listed in the city’s business and services index as a private meteorological consultant, with an office in the Portside district. That area was inexpensive but respectable; Djuro lifted an eyebrow at the address.
“Problems?” Heikki asked, and kept her voice calm with an effort.
Djuro shook his head. “Weathermen—especially poor weathermen—don’t usually act as Club Reps, that’s all.”
Or belong to the Club in the first place, Heikki thought. “Yes, but…” she began, and Nkosi grinned.
“Nothing has been normal yet on this planet. Why should the rep be any different?”
“Classist,” Heikki said, to Djuro, and shook herself, hard. “The ‘cat’s waiting. Let’s go.”
She left the two men at the expensive end of the 5K Road, where the equipment rentors generally kept their show lots, and turned the ‘cat back toward town, threading her way through the minimal traffic to the Portside district. This was one of the newer parts of Lowlands, where the low, mostly one-and two-story buildings were finished with dull bronze-colored insulating tiles. The streets were broad, but empty, most workers hiding inside, out of the morning heat. Once she had found the Frozen Pool—it was actually a broad black-metal sculpture of a pond crammed with the local wildlife, birds and various small amphibians, even a fish caught in the act of leaping half out of the mirror-bright “water”—it was easy to find Ciceron’s office. She worked the ‘cat into one of the narrow parking slots, and made her way into the building.
The lobby was cool and quiet and empty, blank-walled except for the dull grill of a mechanical concierge. Heikki crossed to it, and pressed its almost invisible button.
“Gwynne Heikki, for Ionas Ciceron.”
For a long moment, there was no answer, but then at last relays clicked, and she heard the faint indistinct hiss of an open channel.
“Dam’ Heikki,” a voice said, from a speaker set somewhere in the ceiling. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you so early. Please, do come up.”
“Thank you,” Heikki said, and waited. A minute or so later, servos hummed, and an almost invisible section of wall slid back, revealing a moving stair. A new voice—the building’s computer, Heikki guessed—said,
“Please take the stair. Movement will stop at your floor. Enjoy your visit.”
Heikki bit back her instinctive answer, and stepped onto the stirring stairway. It rose, slowly at first, then faster and more smoothly, curving up and around a massive central pillar. Heikki could see other offices, the ones on the lower, more expensive floors, each with its shaded-glass frontage and a human secretary visible behind it to prove the operation was worthwhile. As the stairway approached the fifth level, it began to slow down, slacking off tread by tread. Heikki clutched at the handrail to steady herself, and was looking down as the machine ground to a stop and she stepped off onto the mirror-floored landing.
“Good morning, Dam’ Heikki.”
She looked up quickly—she hadn’t seen anyone as the stair approached—to see a small man standing in an open doorway at the far side of the stairwell.
“Ser Ciceron?”
The little man bobbed his head in acknowledgement. He was a perfect miniature of a man, Heikki thought, bemused. His head barely reached her shoulder—and she was not exceptionally tall herself—but he was so strikingly handsome, and carried himself so gracefully, with an assurance long unconscious of his size, that it was she who was outsized, not he who was diminutive.
“Do come in,” Ciceron continued. Heikki smiled, and stepped past him into the office. It was a typical business property, reminding her of the suites she and Santerese had rented for years, but the media wall had been half blocked off by an elaborate cloud chamber, only a third of its surface visible from the working desk. Heikki could not help raising an eyebrow at that, and Ciceron smiled crookedly.
“I do rather more simulations work than anything else, Dam’ Heikki. Despite my other responsibility.”
“I beg your pardon,” Heikki said automatically, and settled herself in the client’s chair. “However, it is as Club representative that I’ve come to see you today.” Deliberately, she left other possibilities dangling, knowing that Ciceron would know what she had been hired for, and saw the little man’s smile broaden briefly.
“Of course, Dam’ Heikki. How can I be of assistance?”
“I need recommendations,” Heikki said bluntly. “I expect you know why I’m on planet.”
She waited then, curious to hear his response. After a moment, Ciceron nodded. “The missing latac. Yes, I heard they were hiring off-world to find it.”
That, Heikki thought, was an odd turn of phrase. “Locals couldn’t handle it?” she asked, and allowed a note of contempt to seep into her voice.
Ciceron frowned. “They didn’t try.”
“The Firster problem?”
“No.”