“You’re as well informed about this mess as anyone,” I reminded him. “What does he think I can add to the discussion?”
Kennrick glanced at Bayta. “He feels you may have a better handle on what’s happening than I do.”
“And you resent the implications?”
“What I resent or don’t resent is irrelevant,” he said evenly. “I’m Pellorian Medical’s representative to these people, and the head of the contract team has made a request of me. The rule is, if you can satisfy such requests, you do.”
“True enough,” I agreed, feeling a twinge of sympathy. In my early days in Westali, when most of my missions boiled down to VIP-babysitting duty, I’d often found myself in the same unenviable position. “Well, we can’t have yon ignoring your mandate, can we? Tell Usantra Givvrac I’d be honored to give him a few minutes of my time.”
“Thanks.” he said, and headed back toward the bar section. I waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to Bayta. “Anything you want me to ask him?” I asked her. “Upper-rank Fillies are notorious for speaking only to the senior person present.”
“No. I don’t think so.” Bayta said. “We can always ask him later if I think of something.”
“Careful,” I warned. “In classic dit rec dramas, putting off a conversation usually means that person is the next one to die.”
Bayta shivered. “I wish this was a dit rec drama,” she murmured. “At least then there would be some sense to it.”
“Oh, there’s sense to it,” I promised her grimly. “We just don’t know what it is yet. But we will.”
“I hope so.” She looked up again, her eyes focusing somewhere over my shoulder. “Here he comes.”
Earlier, when I’d seen Kennrick and Givvrac conferring in the latter’s coach car, I’d noted that the Filly looked fairly elderly. Now, as I watched him crossing the dining car toward us. I was struck by not only how old he was. but also how fragile. He walked carefully, as if balance was a conscious decision instead of something his body automatically did on its own. His eyes continually scanned the tables and chairs alongside his path, with the air of someone who fears a casual bump might break delicate bones. Kennrick walked close beside him the whole way, his eyes alert, his hand poised for an instant assist should the other need it.
I stood up as they approached, swiveling my chair partway toward them. “I greet you, Usantra Givvrac,” I said, gesturing to the seat. “Please take my chair.”
“I thank you. Mr. Compton,” Givvrac said, sinking gratefully onto his knees on it in the standard Filly sitting position. He waited for the chair to reconfigure for his body, and then gestured to the chair across the table beside Bayta. “Please—sit. You as well, Mr. Kennrick.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping around the corner of the table and sitting down in the indicated chair as Kennrick took the other empty seat beside Givvrac. “If I may be so bold, Usantra Givvrac, I’m surprised to see someone of your age so far from home.”
“With age comes experience, Mr. Compton.” Givvrac replied. “With experience comes wisdom and perspective. Or so one hopes.”
“Your people thought such wisdom and perspective would be necessary in this contract discussion?” I suggested.
“They did,” Givvrac confirmed. “And so it was. But I came here to question you, not to be questioned by you.”
“My apologies,” I said, inclining my head. “Please state your questions.”
“I’m told by Mr. Kennrick that you are an investigator,” Givvrac said. “Let us begin with a list of your credentials.”
“I’m a former agent of Earth’s Western Alliance Intelligence service.” I said. “During those years. I traveled over fairly large stretches of our end of the galaxy, and gained experience dealing with members of several of the Twelve Empires.”
“And now?”
“Now I travel the galaxy with my associate Bayta,” I said, nodding toward her. “We do odd jobs and assist with investigations for the Spiders.”
“I see,” Givvrac said, and I could see him wondering, just as Witherspoon had, what sort of investigations the Spiders might possibly need assistance with. Unlike the good doctor, though, Givvrac was too polite to ask. “Any other credentials?”
For a moment I was tempted to tell him about my brief employment with Larry Hardin, who had hired me to find a way to steal, bribe, or extort control of the Quadrail away from the Spiders. Givvrac’s reaction to such a revelation might have been interesting. “Various odd jobs when I was in school,” I said instead. “Nothing remarkable.”
Givvrac nodded, a rather awkward looking motion for that head and neck combination. Clearly, it was a gesture he’d picked up solely to use with Humans and a couple of other species. “Tell me what you’ve learned of the present situation.”
“Unfortunately, at this point I probably don’t know much more than you do,” I said. “Yesterday evening Master Colix came down with cadmium poisoning, source unknown, and quickly succumbed to it. Shortly thereafter, Master Bofiv died from the same cause. It appears now that di-Master Strinni has also been poisoned, plus he’s been dosed with a drug called printimpolivre-bioxene.”
Givvrac looked at Kennrick. “Are you familiar with this drug?”
“Dr. Witherspoon says it’s a hallucinogen,” Kennrick said. “It was apparently the reason for di-Master Strinni’s violent behavior earlier in his car.”
“I’ve not heard of this drug before,” Givvrac said, looking back at me. “Is it common?”
“It’s common enough,” I said grimly. “In the illegal drug trade, its street name is necrovri.”
Givvrac sat up a bit straighter. “Necrovri,” he murmured. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. A blight among the Shorshic and Pirkarli lower classes.” His nose blaze darkened. “But how could such a thing have drawn in one of di-Master ranking?”
“The upper ranks of any species aren’t immune to the lure of the forbidden,” I reminded him. “However, in this case, I don’t think di-Master Strinni took the drug on his own. I believe it was given to him without his knowledge, possibly to prevent us from learning something from him about the other two murders.”
“Murders,” Givvrac murmured, his blaze darkening a little more. “Mr. Kennrick said he believed the deaths were not accidental. Now you add your same opinion to his?”
“Yes. I do.” I said, diplomatically passing over the fact that Kennrick wouldn’t have had any such insight if I hadn’t taken the time to beat it into him. “Dr. Witherspoon is trying to reverse di-Master Strinni’s cadmium poisoning. If he succeeds, we should be able to question di-Master Strinni and see what he knows. If anything.”
“Do you know how this poisoning was accomplished?” Givvrac asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “Part of the problem is that we don’t have a motive for the attacks. Typically, motives for murder fall into one of three categories: passion, profit, or revenge. Passion is out—clearly, these killings were carefully planned and executed. That leaves us profit and revenge.” I raised my eyebrows in silent question.
“Clever, Mr. Compton,” Givvrac said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “So in order for you to answer my questions, I must first answer yours?”
“All investigations require questions and answers,” I pointed out. “Can you think of how anyone would profit from the deaths of Masters Colix and Bofiv?”
“No,” Givvrac said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Leaving us with revenge,” I said. “Can you think—?”