There were no other vehicles waiting as I pulled into the circular drive in front of the main spaceport building. Through the glassed-in foyer I could see a youngish man at the Customs counter, looking slightly bleary-eyed as he worked. Confederation regs required there be someone on duty or on call at all times, but at this hour I'd expected to have to wake someone up.
I parked Veldrick's van in front of the door and got out, scanning the parking area and the autocab stand as I did so. There was no sign of our last pair of Filly walkers. I turned back to the spaceport door, mentally running through my repertoire of sweet talk, bluster, and threats. It was going to take something unusually impressive for me to talk six crates of illegal Modhran coral past a Customs official at this time of night.
The door had just swung open for me when I heard the sound of approaching car engines. I turned, my hand automatically slipping into my jacket for my Beretta.
And as I did so I was hit by a barrage of lights: the stabbing white of headlights, along with strobing flashes of red and blue.
"Freeze," a voice ordered from behind me.
Carefully, I turned around, my hand still inside my jacket. Lieutenant Bhatami had appeared from some nook or cranny inside the spaceport and was striding through the foyer toward me, flanked by a pair of cops with guns in their hands. Bhatami's own sidearm was still in its holster, but his hand was resting on the grip.
"Hello, Lieutenant," I greeted him, easing my hand out of my jacket and holding it out to demonstrate its emptiness. "What brings you here at this ungodly hour?"
"My job," Bhatami said as the three of them reached me. Behind me, the police cars had braked to a group halt, and I could hear the sounds of multiple doors opening as they spilled their own collection of cops onto the circular drive. "Hands behind your back, please," the lieutenant added as his two fellow cops veered off and approached me warily from both sides.
"What's going on?" I asked, doing as he ordered. One of the cops stepped close and cuffed my wrists together at the small of my back.
"Let's start with what you're doing here," Bhatami said, stepping close to me and pulling my Beretta from its holster. "Odd time of night to be leaving the planet."
"I wasn't leaving the planet," I said. "My assistant and I checked into the Hanging Gardens and I came back here to pick up our luggage."
"In a very nice van," Bhatami commented, running his eye over it. "A rental?"
"No, I borrowed it from Mr. Veldrick," I told him. There was no point in lying—they would have had the tag data before I'd even parked. "He had some equipment he needed to send out to the Tube. Since I was coming out here anyway, I volunteered to bring the crates along and put them into secure storage until the next torchferry run."
"You talked to Mr. Veldrick personally about all this?" Bhatami asked.
"We discussed it earlier this evening, yes," I said, choosing my words carefully.
"It would have to have been earlier, wouldn't it?" Bhatami's gaze shifted to a point over my shoulder, "Isantra Golovek?" he invited.
"That is the one," a Filly voice came from behind me.
I turned, squinting at the bright lights of the police cars still pointed in my direction. It was my old friend Comet Nose, striding toward me with a cop on either side of him. "Yes, it is definitely the one I saw," Comet Nose continued. "It was he who murdered Mr. Veldrick."
"Thank you," Bhatami said. "Frank Donaldson, you're under arrest for the murder of Anton Charl Veldrick. Sergeant, take him to the station for booking."
"Wait a second," I protested as one of the cops took my arm and started to pull me toward the assembled cars. "That's it? An uncorroborated accusation from a single alien, and that's it?"
"Patience, Mr. Donaldson," Bhatami said, eyeing me closely. "You're acting as if you've already been convicted and sentenced."
"I'm acting as if I'm sitting in the middle of a massive setup," I countered. "Those crates contain highly valuable equipment. Am I supposed to just trust that your men will resist the temptation of pilferage after I've been hauled off?"
"No need," Bhatami assured me. "Those crates are evidence in an ongoing investigation. As such, they'll be returning to the station along with you and secured in the evidence room." He cocked an eyebrow. "If it'll make you feel any better, I can arrange for you to ride in the van along with them."
"And the rest will also be secured?" Comet Nose put in.
"Yes, as soon as it's been located," Bhatami assured him.
"The rest of what?" I asked.
"The rest of the material you allegedly took from Mr. Veldrick's house," Bhatami said. "Isantra Golovek gave us a full description."
I frowned. What was he talking about? The pieces of coral they'd loaded aboard their cars?
And then, suddenly, I understood. "Let me guess," I said. "Several metal boxes the size of Quadrail lockboxes?"
"What makes you say that?" Bhatami asked, eyeing me thoughtfully.
"Because I've recently seen boxes like that," I told him. "Only not at Mr. Veldrick's house. They're the property of someone else entirely."
"If so, the owner has nothing to worry about," Bhatami assured me. "Assuming this person you name can prove title, the boxes will be promptly returned."
I sent a sour look at Comet Nose, noting again the subtle cues of Modhran control reflected in his long face. So that was the new game plan. The Modhri didn't particularly care if the murder frame-up against me worked or not. In fact, he probably didn't even care if Bhatami ultimately returned Rebekah's boxes to her. All he wanted was the chance to get his coral outpost and her boxes all thrown in together in the police evidence room. "And where exactly am I alleged to have stashed these other boxes?" I asked.
"Your assistant was alleged to have driven off with them in another car," Bhatami said. "We're looking for her now."
I looked around at the collection of cops loitering around us. There were eight of them, plus Bhatami and the two who'd been hiding in the spaceport building with him. "That's a neat trick, considering most of your force seems to be right here," I commented.
"We're a larger department than you seem to think, Mr. Donaldson," Bhatami said. "And the group here will be back on patrol duty as soon as you and your cargo have been properly secured." Stepping forward, he took my upper arm at the elbow. "Now, as you'd expressed interest in riding in the van with the crates—"
"Lieutenant!" one of the cops at the edge of the pack cut in. "Car approaching along the south access road."
"Take him," Bhatami ordered, shoving me toward one of the other cops. Drawing his gun, he stepped to the front of Veldrick's van and pressed himself against it, his eyes on the approaching headlights.
This was it—McMicking was finally making his move. I took a casual half step forward, easing a little in front of the cop who now had me in tow. As I did so, my cuffed hands brushed the key ring on his belt, a ring that included the key to my cuffs. If whatever McMicking had in mind was spectacular enough, I ought to be able to get my hands free while everyone else's attention was distracted.
The car was still approaching, running rather faster than seemed prudent. Was it a diversion, rigged with a tied-down steering wheel and braced accelerator? I glanced surreptitiously around the rest of the spaceport grounds, searching for a sign of the real attack.
But instead of crashing into the parked police cars, the incoming car turned sharply to avoid them and braked to a halt directly behind my van. As it settled into the glare of the police cars' headlights, I saw that it was Karim's car.
"Out of the car," Bhatami shouted. "Keep your hands where we can see them."
"Don't shoot," a female voice called back. The two front doors opened.