"Not really. Consider it a conversation piece." Lowering the gun to the floor, Lathe rose to his feet.
"Good. You might take a look at the gunports you shot, then."
Frowning, Lathe did so. The dark wood was unmarked. "Blanks?"
Reger nodded. "I couldn't take the risk you'd be hurt. I see now how unlikely that was. Excuse me."
He leaned over slightly. "Stretcher team to my office," he said. "Five injured. Should I send another team to the front door?" he added to Lathe.
"Probably ought to." The comsquare tapped his tingler. Okay. Jensen?
Okay. In control. "Make that definite. And better have everyone else leave him alone out there."
"Of course." Reger gave the orders, then leaned back in his chair and regarded Lathe thoughtfully.
"After all, we can't start off by fighting with our new allies, can we?"
Lathe cocked his head. "Allies?"
Reger's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You suggested we might want to hire real fighters. I presume that's you."
The comsquare nodded, studying the other for a moment. Something about the man seemed wrong, somehow, behind that concealing light. "I must say, you're a cool one. When did you place us?"
Reger waved a negligent hand. "Oh, right from the beginning. The road out there isn't as innocent as it seems—I have watchers and sensors all along it. And of course my men got a good look at you at the bar."
"So why did you let us in?"
"Curiosity. Blackcollars out for vengeance or destruction wouldn't simply come walking up the front walk like you did. I thought it might be interesting to see what you wanted."
"It could have been fatal," Lathe told him bluntly. "Even with the gimmicked guns."
"You weren't carrying any of your shuriken or nunchaku weapons." Reger shrugged again. "And I took some other precautions."
Lathe frowned... and suddenly understood. Reaching down, he picked up the rifle again and lobbed it gently over the desk.
Reger didn't move as the weapon arched neatly through his chest and chair and clattered to the floor behind.
"My congratulations," Lathe said. "An exceptionally good hologram. I didn't know they could be made that realistic."
"All sleight-of-hand," the other said modestly. "The light in your eyes is the key—even this one has the usual flat look when you see it under normal conditions. But most of the visitors I use it for don't have the time to be that observant."
Lathe nodded. "So what happens now?"
Reger folded his arms across his chest. "We discuss business, of course. Why don't you start by telling me exactly what you want here.—Ah."
The "ah" was for the arrival of the medical team. Lathe watched them closely, half expecting them to suddenly sprout guns and attack. But they merely loaded the casualties onto stretchers and carted them off.
"You were saying...?" Reger's image said when they were gone.
"We need information," Lathe told him. "I'm guessing you have the connections to get it for us."
"I see. And in return you offer what?"
"That's negotiable. I realize that blackcollars-for-hire is probably a new concept for you, but we have a number of specialties you might find useful."
Reger's face didn't acknowledge the delicate probe. "From what my men said and implied, I take it you haven't been in town long."
"About seven hours now," Lathe admitted.
"From...?"
"Plinry."
That got a raised eyebrow. "Indeed. Off the shuttle that came in from orbit?"
"More or less."
"Which means that along with information, you also need protection. Security exists in large part to hunt down people like you."
"With the paying off of informers part of their yearly budget?" Lathe asked pointedly.
Surprisingly, Reger smiled. "You really are uninformed. Do you know who I am?"
Lathe pursed his lips. "You're Manx Reger, who collects a share of smuggling operations in this area. I gather there's more."
"A great deal more. I own nearly every illegal operation from Arvada west to the mountains, and a fair amount of the legal stuff as well. My yearly income is in the three-quarter-million-mark range, my total assets probably five million. What the hell can Security offer me that'll make it worth turning you in?"
"I suppose that depends on what you want us to do for you?"
For a moment Reger was silent. "Yes, it does," he conceded. "Okay. Let's start with what exactly this information is that you need."
"We weren't the only team that dropped from that shuttle," Lathe told him. "The other group's gone to ground, and we need to find them."
"Didn't you have signals or a rendezvous place picked out? I'd have thought—"
"They don't know we came with them."
Reger snorted, shook his head. "Damn pretzel thinking'll get you every time. So you want them found, but not brought in or tipped off?"
"Right—and I don't want Security to get a sniff of them, either. Your people have the finesse for something like that?"
"Enough of them do. I've been in this business a long time, blackcollar. I know how to find people I can trust."
"I hope so, for your sake," Lathe told him grimly, "because any unravelings will come back here to spawn."
Reger gazed at him a moment. "Let's get one thing straight from the top," he said coldly. "I don't react well to threats. Not yours, not anyone else's. You ask, you deal—you don't threaten. All right?"
"Fine," Lathe said. "As long as we've got a clear understanding. Now, let's discuss your half of the trade."
"Yes." Reger stroked his lip thoughtfully, his eyes drifting to the side wall and the hidden gunport there. "You caught the Judas holes pretty quickly earlier. You always that good at finding stray openings?"
"Some of us are better at it than others. You need someone infiltrated?"
"No—quite the opposite." Reger waved his hand in an all-encompassing sweep. "You've seen my home and grounds, at least in passing. What do you think of its security?"
Lathe shrugged. "I'd have to take an in-depth look. Good security is never visible on the surface."
"True. All right, then, here's the deal. I'll find your stray team and offer you shelter if you'll upgrade my security system. Totally upgrade. When you're through, no one is to get in here without my knowing about it."
Lathe returned the other's gaze steadily, trying not to show any reaction. It was a far more ethically acceptable bargain than he'd expected to have to make, all things considered. And yet, the oddness of it was setting off quiet alarms in the back of his mind. A man with Reger's resources shouldn't need to hire blackcollars to fence his yard for him.
Unless he was trying to keep out other blackcollars. Such as those Lathe and Skyler had been mistaken for. Whose existence Reger had blatantly avoided mentioning.
"All right, it's a deal," the comsquare said. Whatever the undercurrent was he was sensing, he needed time to track it down, and this was the simplest way to buy a few days. "We'll need complete specs on the system you've got now, plus layouts of house and grounds, power and water systems, and other odds and ends we'll think of as we go along."
"You'll have them," Reger said. "How many of you are there?"
"Enough," Lathe replied. "You probably won't see more than three of us at any one time."
"If you're staying here—"
"Not all of us will be. You're too far from central Denver for this to be a practical base."
He'd expected Reger to object, but the other merely shrugged. "Fine. I trust you'll accept local clothing, money, and IDs?"
"Certainly. At the moment, though, we need to return the tow truck and these coveralls before their owner misses them."
Reger smiled. "Of course. We don't want any extra attention drawn this way, do we? I take it you'll return for your money and clothing before you head into Denver?"
"We'll be back within the hour," Lathe promised. "And I'll leave two men here to start on your security system at that time. For the moment we'll all use my name as a pass with your gateman."
"And that is—?"