"It's fine with me, as long as some other guy doesn't walk up here in a few minutes looking for the same thing. And as long as the case contains what we agreed upon." Jirik added.
The man looked pained. "I'm the guy. I can't believe that they didn't give us a recognition code word, or something. Amateurs!" He shook his head. "Now, let's get this over with. Give me the damned stuff, and I'll be on my way!"
Jirik produced the memory crystals, and the man nudged the case toward Jirik with his foot. The case was full of Alliance credits. Jirik nodded, and the man walked off without another word.
Jirik and Bran were startled by the abrupt departure of the terrorist agent. They also felt an odd mixture of relief and apprehension; relief at the apparent ease with which the transfer had been accomplished, and apprehension, a feeling that it had been too easy. Resigning themselves to the fact that there was nothing that they could do, and that the next move was up to others, they finished what turned out to be a delicious meal. Then, with the glum air of men on their way to a gallows, they left the restaurant and stepped into Wayoff's bright afternoon sunlight.
As they stood blinking, their eyes adjusting to the brightness, a ground cab swung out of traffic, stopping within mere centimeters of them. "Cab, Messires?" The cabbie shouted, "Best on Wayoff!"
Jirik was about to refuse, and wave a dismissal, when the cabbie continued, "Mr. Tomys highly recommends our service!"
Muttering obscene comments about "spook crap," Jirik ushered Bran into the cab, then joined him. As the door hissed closed, the cabbie grinned into his rear view mirror and said, "Welcome to Wayoff, Captain!"
Jirik eyed the man's reflection sourly, then stared. "You!" he shouted. "You bastard! I didn't recognize you without your glasses, or your damned dress. I think you like this masquerade crap!"
Tomys grin grew even wider. "Well," he replied, "I always did enjoy 'dress up' when I was a kid." He yanked the cab into the stream of traffic, leaving a trail of squealing brakes and curses in his wake.
"Where're we going?" the ever-pragmatic Bran demanded.
"First, to the Guild Office, so that you can get rid of that case," Tomys replied, "Then we lose the tail you've been leading around. No, don't look around." he continued, forestalling Jirik in the middle of a frantic jerk of his head. "Then we go somewhere that we can talk.'
The cab waited while Jirik deposited the terrorists' credits. Then he rejoined the others. As he settled into the seat, the cab surged from the curb and sped up, weaving in and out of traffic and scaring Jirik badly. Suddenly, Tomys jerked the cab across two lanes of traffic and into a narrow alley. They roared through the deserted passage, and swung squealing into the stream of traffic on the next street, headed in the opposite direction from their previous path.
Two blocks down the street, they turned left then two blocks later, right, before Jirik lost track of of their twists and turns. Abruptly, they were out of the business district, and in a lower-class residential district. After several more changes of course, Tomys turned into a littered alley, then wheeled the cab into a narrow, dilapidated garage.
Tomys shut down the cab's power, then turned to his passengers with a large grin. "All out!" he said enthusiastically.
Bran wasn't grinning. "Where the hell are we?" he demanded suspiciously.
Tomys shrugged. "Safe house. Belongs to the Alliance, through our resident agent. It's the only place in town that I can guarantee is free of spy-eyes. It was checked less than an hour ago."
As the three exited the cab, Tomys touched a control on the instrument panel, and a portion of the dilapidated garage's littered floor rose to reveal stairs leading to a tunnel.
"I apologize for the cloak and dagger equipment, Captain," Tomys said, "but we don't want spacers being seen entering or leaving. This safe house cost the Alliance a lot of credits, and we can't afford to have it blown, especially now!"
Jirik's voice was surly with suspicion. "Then, why bring us here? Couldn't we have talked somewhere else? Somewhere more, ah, public?"
Tomys shook his head as he led them down the tunnel. "No. We've learned a lot since we last talked. Wayoff is a hotbed of terrorist activity. We still think that Cony is the head of the terrorists, but most of their funding and organization is on Wayoff." He paused as they exited the tunnel through a door disguised as a shelving unit in the kitchen of the safe house. He escorted them into a comfortable, though shabby, living area, snagging a bottle and some glasses on the way.
Bran was shaking his head. "I don't buy it. Why would the head of an outfit like that live on another planet, in a whole different system, from his headquarters? It doesn't make sense!"
Cony smiled gently. "It makes more than you might think. I suspect that Cony figures that any Alliance agent that infiltrates the organization will feel the same way. He'd trace the leadership, but would stop at the highest level on Wayoff
He shrugged. "Actually, he's not really out of touch. Boondock is only one jump from Wayoff, and at least one, and sometimes more, rim tramps are running back and forth daily. I suspect that his chief deputy, the supposed head of the terrorists here on Wayoff, is in daily contact. Besides, we think that Cony's on Wayoff, now. We think that he came as a crewman on one of the rim tramps that arrived yesterday. Unfortunately," Tomys admitted embarrassedly, "We lost him. My men are trying to trace him as we speak, but the terrorists are getting more careful."
Jirik groaned. "I was afraid of that! If that sonuvabitch is here, we're in trouble!'
"I'm afraid that you're right," Tomys replied seriously. "What precautions have you taken?"
Jirik's tone was grim. "Valt and Tor are forted up on the Lass with all locks sealed, and carrying flechetters. They'll only open up to a code word in my voice. Bran and I are carrying needlers."
Tomys nodded briskly. "Good. I suspect that at this moment, Cony is having his experts go over the software and specs that you passed. You're probably pretty safe until they finish, but that will only be a few hours. Then, he'll either try to recruit you or kill you.
"Then you haven't changed your mind about that?" Bran asked.
Tomys shrugged. "No. It still looks like his most likely move. Even if he tries to recruit you, he'll be planning to kill you if you refuse. I would suggest this: if some underling tries to recruit you, you might have some chance of leaving Wayoff alive. But, if it's Cony that talks to you, you can assume that it's 'join or die'. He couldn't afford to let you live if you knew that he was one of the terrorists."
"You're always so full of cheerful news," Jirik replied with grim sarcasm. "Are you going to have us covered?"
Tomys shook his head. "No," he said with equal grimness. "I can't afford to cover you. As of now, Cony suspects that Alliance agents may be tracking him, but he can't be sure. I can't take a chance on letting him be sure. Oh, we'll be following you, but we can't help you. There's too much at stake."
"Wonderful!" Jirik's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "These bastards are going to try to kill us and seize our ship, and you're just going to stand by and watch it happen. Great. I should've kicked your ass out of my office as soon as you flashed that ID!"
Tomys nodded seriously. "Hell, if it would prevent an interstellar civil war, I'd help them! I won't try to fool you, Captain. Right now, you're our best chance of stopping that civil war, but if it goes wrong, we have to be able to fall back on more conventional tactics."
"But," he continued earnestly, "It wouldn't have helped to have kicked me out of your office. I didn't lure you to the rim; Cony did. But, maybe I can help you survive the experience. That is, if you help me.
"If you turn Cony down, you're dead; and your men forted up on the Lass won't last much longer. They can't stay forted up forever, and there aren't enough of them to leave. Sooner or later, they'd have to come out and try to recruit crew to help them; and then they'd be dead, too."