"Name?"
"Havvy. Broey holds him, but he once served Jedrik. She says to tell you Havvy is a reject, that he was contaminated."
"Bring him in."
Havvy surprised him. The surface was that of a bland-faced nonentity, braggadocio clearly evident under a mask of secret knowledge. He wore a green uniform with a driver's brassard. The uniform was wrinkled, but there were no visible rips or cuts. He'd been treated with more care than the Gowachin who was being led out of the room. Havvy replaced the Gowachin in the chair. McKie waved away the bindings.
Unfocused questions created turmoil in McKie's mind. He found it difficult to delay. Sixty hours! But he felt that he could almost touch the solution to the Dosadi mystery, that in only a few minutes he would know names and real motives for the ones who'd created this monster. Havvy? He'd served Jedrik. In what way? Why rejected? Contaminated?
Unfocused questions, yes.
Havvy sat in watchful tension, casting an occasional glance around the room, at the windows. There were no more explosions out there.
As McKie studied him more carefully, certain observations emerged. Havvy was small but solid, one of those Humans of lesser stature who concealed heavy musculature which could surprise you if you suddenly bumped into them. It was difficult to guess his age, but he was not Dosadi. A member of Grinik's team? Doubtful. Clearly not Dosadi, though. He didn't examine those around him with an automatic status assessment. His reactions were slow. Too much that should remain under shutters flowed from within him directly to the surface. Yes, that was the ultimate revelation. It bothered McKie that so much went unseen beneath the surface here, so much for which Aritch and company had not prepared him. It would take a lifetime to learn all the nuances of this place, and he had less than sixty hours remaining to him.
All of this flowed through McKie's mind in an eyeblink. He reached his decision, motioned the guards and others to leave.
One of the security people started to protest, but McKie silenced him with a glance, pulled up a chair, and sat down facing the captive.
The door closed behind the last of the guards.
"You were sent here deliberately to seek me out," McKie said.
It was not the opening Havvy had expected. He stared into McKie's eyes. A door slammed outside. There was the sound of several doors opening and shutting, the shuffling of feet. An amplified voice called out:
"Move these prisoners out!"
Havvy chewed at his upper lip. He didn't protest. A deep sigh shook him, then:
"You're Jorj X. McKie of BuSab?"
McKie blew out through pursed lips. Did Havvy doubt the evidence of his own senses? Surprising. McKie shook his head, continued to study the captive.
"You can't be McKie!" Havvy said.
"Ahhhhhh . . ." It was pressed out of McKie.
Something about Havvy: the body moved, the voice spoke, but the eyes did not agree.
McKie thought about what the Caleban, Fannie Mae, had said. A light touch. He was overtaken by an abrupt certainty: someone other than Havvy looked out through the man's eyes. Yessss. Aritch's people controlled the Caleban who maintained the barrier around Dosadi. The Caleban could contact selected people here. She'd have a constant updating on everything such people learned. There must be many such spies on Dosadi, all trained not to betray the Caleban contact - no twitching, no lapses into trance. No telling how many agents Aritch possessed here.
Would all the other people on Dosadi remain unaware of such a thing, though? That was a matter to question.
"But you must be McKie," Havvy said. "Jedrik's still working out of . . ." He broke off.
"You must've provided her with some amusement by your bumbling," McKie said. "I assure you, however, that BuSab is not amused."
A gloating look came over Havvy's face.
"No, she hasn't made the transfer yet."
"Transfer?"
"Haven't you figured out yet how Pcharky's supposed to buy his freedom?"
McKie felt off balance at this odd turn.
"Explain." "
"He's supposed to transfer your identity into Jedrik's body and her identity into your body. I think she was going to try that with me once, but . . ."
Havvy shrugged.
It was like an explosion in McKie's newly sensitized awareness. Rejected! Contaminated! Body exchange! McKie was accusatory!
"Broey sent you!"
"Of course." Offensive.
McKie contained his anger. The Dosadi complexities no longer baffled him as once they had. It was like peeling back layer upon layer of concealment. With each new layer you expected to find the answer. But that was a trap the whole universe set for the unwary. It was the ultimate mystery and he hated mystery. There were those who said this was a necessary ingredient for BuSab agents. You eliminated that which you hated. But everything he'd uncovered about this planet showed him how little he'd known previously about any mystery. Now, he understood something new about Jedrik. There was little doubt that Broey's Human messenger told the truth.
Pcharky had penetrated the intricacies of PanSpechi ego transfer. He'd done it without a PanSpechi as his subject, unless . . . yes . . . that expanded the implications in Tria's history. Their PanSpechi experiment had assumed even more grotesque proportions.
"I will speak directly to your Caleban monitor," McKie said.
"My what?"
It was such obvious dissimulation that McKie only snorted. He leaned forward.
"I will speak directly to Aritch. See that he gets this message without any mistakes."
Havvy's eye's became glassy. He shuddered.
McKie felt the inner tendrils of an attempted Caleban contact in his own awareness, thrust them aside.
"No! I will speak openly through your agent. Pay close attention, Aritch. Those who created this Dosadi horror cannot run far enough, fast enough, or long enough to escape. If you wish to make every Gowachin in the universe a target for violence, you are proceeding correctly. Others, including BuSab, can employ mass violence if you force it upon them. Not a pleasant thought. But unless you adhere to your own Law, to the honored relationship between Legum and Client, your shame will be exposed. Innocent Gowachin as well as you others whose legal status has yet to be determined - all will pay the bloody price."
Havvy's brows drew down in puzzlement.
"Shame?"
"They plan to blast Dosadi out of existence."
Havvy pressed back into the chair, glared at McKie.
"You're lying."
"Even you, Havvy, are capable of recognizing a truth. I'm going to release you, pass you back through the lines to Broey. Tell him what you learned from me."
"It's a lie! They're not going to . . ."
"Ask Aritch for yourself."
Havvy didn't ask "Aritch who?" He lifted himself from the chair.
"I will."
"Tell Broey we've less than sixty hours. None of us who can resist mind erasure will be permitted to escape."
"Us?"
McKie nodded, thinking: Yes, I am Dosadi now. He said:
"Get out of here."
It afforded him a measure of amusement that the door was opened by the sub-commander just as Havvy reached it.
"See to him yourself," McKie said, indicating Havvy. "I'll be ready to go in a moment."
Without any concern about whether the sub-commander understood the nature of the assignment, McKie closed his eyes in thought. There remained the matter of Mrreg, who'd sent twenty Gowachin from Tandaloor to get his people off the planet. Mrreg. That was the name of the mythical monster who'd tested the first primitive Gowachin people almost to extinction, setting the pattern of their deepest instincts.