As they entered the lab, for the first time he had a shadow of a natural expression on his face, a crisscross of tiny wrinkles marring the skin about the eyes and mouth. “Several of the techs working on this project tried to refuse probe, but this is outside the reach of such conventions. They had reason, been running their mouths as if they had no off-switch in places with lots of ears. They have been disciplined. It is to be hoped Digby’s people are more prudent.”
Autumn Rose smiled. “It’s part of the service. Proprietary information is restricted to those who need to know.”
Ignoring this exchange, Shadith drifted about the room. It was a squat rectangle with smaller rooms opening out from three of the walls. The lock box where the gadget had been kept when it wasn’t being worked on was set into the floor in the room most distant from the corridor.
She knelt, brushing her fingers across the face of the lock, a pahnlock like that on the door of the storage cubicle. It was, after all, a working lab and the techs employed here would need to get into the thing without too much trouble. I could do it easy as spit and not jiggle a flake in that kephalos. Only problem is getting into the building. No way of faking it I know of. Inside job? Our pretty Exec says no and I’m inclined to believe him. Otherwise the Directors would have the thief and Digby would never have been brought in.
She got to her feet and looked around. Spotless as before. Impossible that it should be the cleaner, but who else went everywhere? These techphiles… depend on their instruments too much… I beat a probe once… different circumstances, still… “I want to talk with the cleaner, do her rounds with her tonight.”
“That is not possible.”
The answer came so fast she knew he hadn’t even considered the question, reinforcing her impression of his rigidity. “Why?” she said. “You operate on a diurnal schedule with most things shut down during the assigned night hours.”
“The schedule is to conserve trained workers; it costs less than finding adequate replacements and importing them. And it only applies to the subcategories. The Researchers come and go as they please, work to their own rhythms with such assistants as they consider necessary. They demand privacy and we ensure that they get it.”
“I see. Have you considered a Researcher as the thief?”
“We have considered everything. The Researchers were not probed, but none of them were here alone at any time during the window and the assistants were tested thoroughly. Their evidence and that from the overlooks provide reasonable proof that none of the Researchers on this level or any of the others could have accessed both this lab and the storage cubicle without being seen. And probing gave further evidence that the assistants were not involved. We have also investigated the lives of all employees back for several months, which is not difficult given the conditions here. All interactions with outsiders or even with other Houses in the Market have been explored; none of them involved anything remotely connected to the theft.”
Shadith strolled about, inspecting the instrumentation and making Prehanet very nervous. Looked a whole helluva lot like the lab was trying some back engineering. No wonder they’re so antsy to retrieve their gadget. Bet a year off my life they stole it themselves. Well, that’s not our business as the esteemed employer would say. Wish I had a clue how the thief got in… “I’ve seen enough here. Walk us through the night security posts, please.”
2. Itchy feet, itchy mind
The ottotel was a wart at the edge of the Marratorium, Marrat’s version of a Pit Stop. Their rooms were standard nonluxe, what they’d find anywhere along the tradelanes. Shadith sat on the bed in her room, staring at the door, feeling that peculiar disorientation that plunging into a new place seemed to be bringing her these days-maybe this time because her harp was sealed in the ship and she’d nothing to do with her hands and her head was empty of words, so making a song or a poem was not possible. Or maybe it was because she was working to another person’s rhythms. Autumn Rose was calling this one as long as they were here at Marrat’s, Digby had made that quite clear. I trust your skills, but not your instincts, he said.
Her skin itched. Her brain itched. She wanted to be out and doing. But Rose said let it lay, so there it was, a corpse stretched out beneath her feet. The cleaner’s the key. I’m sure of that. She passed the probe. Contract labor with barely sufficient intelligence to manage a dust mop. But the only one who could wander unchallenged anywhere once she’s in. So if it isn’t her it’s someone who fooled the kephalos. And the Blurdslang. overseer. How to get in, though? How to take her place? I… The musical chime of the announcer broke into her thoughts.
She got to her feet and sauntered across to the door, expecting another chime, but it didn’t come. She tapped the announcer alive, saw Autumn Rose standing in the hall, her face calm, her hands still. She’s not one to fidget, no, not our Rose. That would be a weakness. She opened the door and stepped back.
Autumn Rose nodded at her, walked to the small round table in the middle of the room, and flipped on the block. She beckoned, and Shadith joined her.
“Did you get anything definite or was that tour mostly for irritating Prehanet?”
Shadith rubbed her thumb across her chin, frowned at the wall. “Mostly I kept remembering Kikun.”
“That noseeum of his wouldn’t pass a template test or mask him from the kephalos.”
“I know. But if you believe prettyface Prehanet, either there’s someone who can beat a probe, or there’s a ghost who can walk through walls. As it were.”
“Hm. Assume a ghost and let him worry about how it got in. Find the ship it arrived on and trace that. There’s a lot of traffic through here, but we should be able to eliminate some of it once we get the flakes.”
“If we get them.”
“I think it’s likely. Sunflower really wants its gadget back.”
“Wonder what it is.” Shadith wrinkled her nose. “Very tightmouthed, our client. I think that lot stole it themselves and they don’t want word getting out.”
“Probably. Marrat’s is definitely Gray Market. Prehanet just sent this over by messenger.” Rose tossed a flake case on the table. “It’s a list with visuals of all those who went in and out of the building on the night in question. Including your pet, the cleaning lady. Run this through a few times tonight, Shadow; Prettyface-apt name, by the way-he was snickering under his breath when he called to tell me the flake was coming. I suspect he’s run the two lists through the kephalos and come up blank. Be interesting if you can tease out something he missed.” She got to her feet. “We’ve an appointment with OverSec an hour after noon tomorrow. I’m going to find a game. Want to come along?”
“Thanks, but the circles you game in are so rarified I’d lose my breath before I started. I might see if there’s any interesting music about.”
Autumn Rose smiled, an urchin’s grin that abolished her usual dignity. “And I’d be snoring before two notes were played. Enjoy, young Shadow. I won’t play Mama and issue any warnings. From what Digby said, they’d be entirely misplaced.”
Shadith blinked as the door closed. “Well, that was a surprise. Maybe we can cobble a team out of the pair of us.”
She set the flake reader down, rubbing at her eyes. “Enough! Swarda was right. Better to play a little and let the overheated brain have a rest.” Quale. Still hard to think of Swardheld by the name he’d adopted. A dozen years or so in the body didn’t weigh very heavily against the millennia they’d spent together as concatenations of forces within the diadem.