“Almost.” Witherspoon said. “And I think our energies would be better spent in figuring out how we can prevent this from happening again instead of trying to assign blame.”
“Hear, hear,” I said. “Actually, that’s the main reason I wanted the two of you here while Dr. Witherspoon checked me over. I thought it was about time we all had a nice quiet conversation together.”
“You wanted me here?” Kennrick asked. “The conductor said it was Dr. Witherspoon who sent for me.”
“It was,” I agreed. “A quiet conversation is the reason I let him do it. Doc? What’s the verdict?”
“No permanent damage that I can see,” Witherspoon reported, putting the viewer back into his bag and pulling out a packet of QuixHeals. “But both your eardrums are going to be tender for a while.” He grimaced, his fingers digging briefly beneath his shirt collar to gingerly touch the back of his neck. “As will your neck,” he added. “A few days on QuixHeals and you should be mostly back to normal.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” Kennrick asked.
“Obviously, what’s been going on aboard this train,” I said. “Dr. Witherspoon has a theory.”
The sudden change in conversational direction caught Witherspoon by surprise. “I do?” he asked, sounding bewildered.
“Of course,” I said. “You think I did it.” It was Kennrick’s turn to be caught flatfooted. “You?” he demanded.
“That’s right,” I said, watching Witherspoon closely. Under our dual gaze, he was starting to look a little squirmy. “Di-Master Strinni may have died with his hands making the sign-language symbols for F and C. Dr. Witherspoon thinks they’re my initials.”
“Ridiculous,” Kennrick said. “Sorry, Doc, but it’s ridiculous.”
“Why?” Witherspoon countered. “We know nothing about Mr. Compton. Who he is, who he’s working for, or what he’s doing on this train.”
“He’s annoyed that I pointed out he’d been with two of the victims before they died.” I stage-whispered to Kennrick. “Actually, with Givvrac, we’re now up to three out of four.”
“And who knows how many of them you dealt with?” Witherspoon shot back. “You or your Spider friends.”
“Easy, Doc,” Kennrick soothed. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. Whatever Mr. Compton is now, what he was was Western Alliance Intelligence.”
Witherspoon drew back a little, his eyes narrowing. “Westali?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed.
“You know this for a fact?” Witherspoon asked.
“I do,” Kennrick confirmed.
“How?”
A muscle twitched in Kennrick’s cheek. “He was—”
“I was involved in an operation at the law office where he was working a few years ago,” I jumped in.
Witherspoon’s wary look shifted to Kennrick. “Was Mr. Kennrick the target?” he asked pointedly.
“No,” I said. It was mostly true. “And to answer your next question, I left the service voluntarily.” That was also mostly true, though I certainly wouldn’t have volunteered to resign if I hadn’t been pressured to do so. “I can give you references, if you still want to check up on me after we reach Venidra Carvo. Won’t do you much good right now, though.”
“I’ll get the list from you later,” Witherspoon said, visibly relaxing a bit. “Did di-Master Strinni know about your history? Is that why he left us your initials?”
“We don’t even know that they were initials, let alone mine,” I reminded him. “They could have stood for First Class, Fried Chicken, or even Feeling Crappy. If he knew Human sign language at all, which we still haven’t established.”
“It’s not impossible,” Kennrick said. “I’ve seen a number of non-Humans using Human sign language over the years. Business people especially—some companies like to have a way of communicating in private across crowded rooms. I don’t know about di-Master Strinni specifically, though.”
“Maybe Master Tririn will know,” I said. “In the meantime, now that my pedigree’s been established, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I’ve got one of my own first,” Kennrick said. “Are you operating under the authority of the Spiders on this?”
“They’ve asked me to investigate the deaths, yes,” I said.
“Is this a one-time thing, or does your association with them predate this particular trip?” he persisted. “The reason I ask is because Pellorian Medical’s policy is to always cooperate with the authorities, even if that cooperation leads to the disclosure of confidential company information. But that only applies to authorities with genuine credentials, not some thrown-together posse of rent-a-cops.”
“I could probably order the Spiders to throw you off the train,” I offered. “Would that that qualify as adequate authority?”
“I’d say so,” Kennrick said. “Sorry, but murders or not, Dr. Witherspoon and I still have to cover our own rear ends here. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the obvious,” I said. “Do you know of anyone who might have had it in for your contract team?”
“Or Shorshians and Filiaelians in general,” Witherspoon put in. “Don’t forget, there are two other Filiaelians being treated back there.”
I shook my head. “Collateral damage. The members of your team are clearly the targets.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” Witherspoon objected. “We’re a medical group. Why would anyone want to attack us?”
“Because you’re a medical group whose decisions will affect the distribution of millions of dollars,” I said.
“There’s your proof of Westali training,” Kennrick commented dryly. “First instinct of every government type is to assume it’s about money.”
I shrugged. “That’s because nine times out of ten it is.”
“Maybe this is the once out often that it isn’t,” Kennrick said. “Dr. Witherspoon’s right—when you’re dealing with Filiaelians and Shorshians, it’s just as likely to be about avenged honor.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Which, I’ll point out, Usantra Givvrac also mentioned.”
“Fine,” I said, giving up. To me. it was obvious this wasn’t a revenge killing. That kind of murderer usually wanted everyone to know that honor had been satisfied, which meant killing his victim in a very obvious way. Something else had to be at the root of this, though I still had no idea what.
But Kennrick and Witherspoon were clearly not yet ready to let go of the revenge straw. I might as well humor them and get it over with. “What do you know about the late members of your group?”
“Not much,” Kennrick admitted. “Doc?”
“I know that Master Colix and Asantra Dallilo have worked together on other projects in the past,” Witherspoon said. “So have Usantra Givvrac and di-Master Strinni. Maybe they managed to offend someone along the way.”
“Except that Asantra Dallilo is still alive,” I pointed out.
Kennrick grunted. “Give it a few hours.”
“He could be right,” Witherspoon rumbled. “Do you think we ought to put the rest of the contract team under guard?”
“Whose guard would you trust?” I asked. “Yours and Mr. Kennrick’s?”
“Or yours,” Witherspoon suggested.
“Or the Spiders’?” Kennrick countered.
“I doubt the Spiders have anyone to spare for escort duty,” I said, passing over the fact that they wouldn’t be much use as guards anyway. “As for me, I don’t work for you.”
“What if we hire you?” Kennrick asked.
“You couldn’t afford me,” I assured him. “Next question. I’d like your reading on where each of the recently deceased stood vis-á-vis this deal with Pellorian Medical.”