"Of course," the clerk said. His expression was mostly neutral, but there was a quiet watchfulness beneath it. Taking Bayta's arm, I steered us through the doorway back into the outbound section of the transfer station.
And as we did so, I threw a casual glance back at our fellow travelers.
All six of them were watching us, their expressions a mix of concern and bemusement and sympathetic outrage for our unheard-of dilemma.
But beneath it all, on every one of those faces, I could see a hint of the Customs official's same quiet watchfulness.
The Modhri wasn't happy with me. Not a bit.
Bayta was obviously thinking the same thing. "He knows what we're up to, you know," she murmured as we headed for the shuttle bay.
"He thinks he knows what we're up to," I corrected. "The problem is, right now he can't do anything about it."
"He could send his walkers after us," she reminded me. "They all must have come up with rationalizations as to why they were getting off at Yandro in the first place. Surely they wouldn't have any trouble coming up with equally good reasons to leave again."
"Right, but in order to do that, they'd have to clear their luggage through Customs again," I pointed out. "That'll take time, and we'll be on our way to the Tube long before then."
"Even with another walker in charge of giving them that clearance?"
So she'd noticed that, too. I'd expected she would. "That won't help him any," I said. "Human Customs routines are largely computerized, with no way for a mere clerk to bypass the routine and speed up the process. In theory, he could call in his supervisor for an override, but that would probably take more time than he's got."
"Couldn't they leave their bags here, like we did?"
"Even the Modhri would have a hard time coming up with a rationalization for that one," I said. "And I doubt he wants to risk taking over the hosts. Not six of them at once, not for the length of time this would take. If they compared notes afterward and discovered simultaneous blackouts, they might finally start to wonder."
I smiled tightly. "Besides, lurking in the back of his ethereal little mind is probably the thought that I might be goading him into precisely that move. We could be pretending to head back to the Tube, then planning to double back and make off with their luggage when they hurry after us."
She gave me a puzzled frown. "What in space would we want with their luggage?"
"I have no idea," I admitted. "But if the Modhri has learned anything, it's not to underestimate how convoluted our plans can get."
"How convoluted your plans can get." "Whatever."
She glanced back over her shoulder. "He might still think it's a risk worth taking."
"What for?" I countered. "So we're dumping this group. So what? We're probably about to get back on the Quadrail, and he's got eyes all over the Quadrail. He'll just have the Customs agent or one of the passengers send messages both directions down the line to alert other mind segments, and figure he'll pick up our trail again before we get too far."
"Excuse me?" a voice called from behind us.
I set my teeth together and turned around. The Modhri might at least have had the common decency to make his move before I'd gone so firmly on record with my prediction that he wouldn't. "Yes?" I asked, turning around.
It was one of my rotund fellow Humans, the one I'd dubbed Tweedledum. "My name's Braithewick," he said, puffing a bit as he came up to us. His luggage, I noted, was nowhere to be seen. Left behind, as I'd just explained to Bayta wouldn't happen. "I'm an associate negotiations researcher at the UN."
A glorified computer clerk, in other words. "And?" I prompted.
He seemed a bit surprised by my unenthusiastic response. "I work at the UN," he repeated. "I wanted to offer my service in your negotiations with the stationmaster."
"What negotiations?" I said. "I'm going to make him find my lockbox and send it over here, and that'll be that."
He chuckled. "You amateurs," he said with a typical mid-level bureaucratic air of self-importance. "You always think it's going to be that easy."
"Why shouldn't it be?" I asked. "Unless you know something I don't."
He smiled cherubically …and suddenly the smile faded, and the flabby skin of his cheeks and throat seemed to sag. "Don't play games, Compton," he said, his voice subtly changed.
"Hello, Modhri," I said, the skin at the back of my neck tingling unpleasantly. No matter how many times I watched a Modhran mind segment take over one of its hosts, it still creeped me out. "If you're still looking for the Lynx, you're out of luck. I haven't got it."
"You know what I seek," the Modhri said. "I offer you a bargain: step back, and allow me to deal with it."
"Is that a bargain, or a threat?" I asked. "What exactly is it you're looking for?"
"You know what I seek," he said again. "The Abomination."
"Ah—that," I said, nodding sagely as I wondered what he was talking about. "And what are you going to do when you find it?"
"It must be destroyed."
"Like you destroyed the Human female back in Manhattan?" I asked. "Why did you kill her, anyway? Too heavy to take with you?"
"The Abomination must be destroyed," he repeated, ignoring my questions. "For once, Compton, you and I will agree on this. You will want it destroyed as well as I."
Another tingle tickled the back of my neck. False sincerity was a dollar a ton in this business, but there was something about the Modhri's expression that half inclined me to believe him. "An interesting assumption," I said. "You really believe that?"
"I do," he said firmly
"In that case, let me make you a counteroffer," I said. "You back off, and let me find it."
His sag-faced expression actually shifted a bit. Surprise? Suspicion? "Why?" he asked.
"For one thing, because I'm the one offering the deal," I said. "For another, I'm better at finding things than you are." I cocked my head. "Or hasn't your particular mind segment caught up with the news of the past few weeks?"
The Modhri shifted his gaze to Bayta. "I am aware of those events."
"Good," I said. "Really does save time when everyone's up to speed. Is it a deal?"
His eyes searched my face, shifted again to Bayta, then came back to me. "It is," he said. "I will accompany you to the Tube and pass on word of our new agreement."
"You can pass it on later, after we're on our way" I gestured back toward the Customs area. "Speaking of being on one's way …?"
"It would be a gesture of good faith," he said, not budging. "On your part as well as mine."
"I said no," I told him, dipping my hand into my pocket and getting a grip on the kwi. "Don't make me insist."
"Violence will not help you," he pointed out calmly. "Not now. If you had shot all my Eyes when they stood together by the Customs counter, you might have achieved something. But not now. Not when another of my Eyes can immediately call the pilot and alert him that there is a madman loose in the station."
I grimaced. But he was right. As soon as I realized the clerk was a walker, I should have zapped the whole bunch of them unconscious.
But wild and possibly indiscriminate shooting wasn't a good idea even at the best of times, not even with a nonlethal weapon. Besides, I couldn't have been sure there weren't more walkers lurking elsewhere among the station's personnel and guests.
For that matter, I still couldn't. "So I have to zap the pilot, too," I said, wondering why I was even bothering to run with this bluff. "I can fly the shuttle myself if I have to."
He gave me a faint smile. "Come now, Compton," he chided. "Do you really wish to draw that kind of attention to yourself? Besides, what would it gain you?"
"Apart from the satisfaction, it would let us start our trip with a little peace and quiet," I said.
"Is that your concern?" he said. "Very well, then. As I said: a gesture of good faith." He nodded behind him. "Shall I bring you your luggage?"