Joat chuckled appreciatively. "Sounds great," she said. "Now, let's discuss price."
"What we need to discuss," Silken said emphatically, all trace of good humor gone, "is what will happen if you get too enterprising with my jewels."
"I've already told you my thoughts about dishonest dealing," Joat said, her eyes unflinching. "I don't have anything to add. Now. What are you paying me to ship these?"
A short, sharp exchange of offer and counteroffer ensued. Joat achieved a price slightly higher than what she'd have settled for, with half to be paid immediately. Best of all she knew that she had achieved a degree of respect in Silken's tiger green eyes.
Joat offered a celebratory cup of coffee from her stores and Silken accepted.
"I'd prefer, say, a nice Chablis," Silken remarked.
Joat grinned and tossed her a sealed container she plucked from a storage cabinet.
"Sorry," she said. "But this is Mocha Java. You'll like it, I promise. Now, is there anything else I should know?" Joat asked, sipping the hot, fragrant brew.
Silken raised a brow. "Such as?"
"Is Central Worlds after your box of goodies?"
"Mmmm," Silken murmured. "Good question. They don't know about it, no. But… I'm always watched and they like to… discuss me with anyone I've spent time with." She sipped delicately. "You may be sure they'll talk to you. Where, when and in what fashion I really couldn't say. But I'd advise you to hide my beauties carefully. I shouldn't like to have them fall into Central Worlds' hands."
Gah! Joat thought, this woman could say "I love you," and make it sound ominous. I wonder if she could go ten minutes without making a dire threat. It was all done very elegantly, but she suspected that after a couple of days in Silken's company the impulse to smack her one would become overwhelming.
"This consignment is to be delivered to Nomik Ciety," Silken was saying. "His is a very important name on Rohan, so you should have no trouble finding him. I must insist that delivery be made within the next eight days. That is possible?"
"No problem," Joat assured her.
"Then I'll leave you to your preparations," Silken said and rose. She held out her hand and Joat rose to take it. "It's been a pleasure, and most interesting, doing business with you," she said, her sweet mouth lifted in a genuine smile. "I'll look forward to seeing you on Rohan."
"In the deserts west of the Deathangel Mountains," Joseph said thoughtfully, looking at the hatch, "there are serpents of great beauty. The patterns of their scales are like living jewels. They also have," he went on, "venom of surpassing deadliness-a man they bite will be dead before his body strikes the ground."
Alvec nodded. "Yup. And if one of 'em bit her, the snake would die."
"The combination is as follows," Rand broke in.
Joat put the box down on the mess table and touched the sensitized plate in the order the AI indicated.
Nothing. "You sure you got that?"
"I have a sensor directly behind the position Ms. Silken occupied," Rand said.
Did I write a subroutine with sulky in it? Joat wondered. She tried the combination again.
"Subtle," Joseph said.
"It must be a bio-lock," Rand explained. "Responding only to her touch." It paused for a moment. "Some of the more sophisticated models will record whether anyone has attempted to open them."
"Oh, well," Joat said. "There's subtle, and then there's whatever works."
She stood, braced the box down on the table with her left hand, and twitched her right. The vibroknife keened, then screeched in a high electronic wail as she jammed it into the lock. Fire and sparks spurted out of the box, mixed with the scents of scorched metal, synthetic, and wood. Joat twitched her hand again, and the handle of the knife slid back into the sleeve of her overall.
"There," she said.
Joseph whispered softly in his own language. Alvec swore.
"Why would she trust you with this? Especially after what happened with the datahedron. It don't make sense." He rubbed his jaw and thick stubble grated. "Smugglers, excuse me, freetraders are cautious to the point of paranoia. And she gives you this."
"The thing is," Joat said, shaking out a piece of cloth and carefully placing the rubies on it, "I don't think Silken, Ciery and Co. think of us as regular smugglers. We're not in that network, we don't know people who are, and we don't have any friends among 'em." She took out an optical intensifier from her kit and clenched it in one eye, holding up a ruby and studying it.
Joseph leaned back and made his joined hands disappear inside the sleeves of his robe, a Bethelite gesture. "Joat, you describe to perfection someone who may be killed with impunity."
"Yup, once their brief usefulness is past."
"Cleared for takeoff."
"Launch," Joat said.
"Execute," Rand replied.
"And so as our ship sinks slowly in the west and the sun pulls away from the dock, we bid farewell to Schwartztarr, exotic land of smugglers, fences, weapons factories, and big furry animals with long, sharp teeth," Joat intoned.
The Wyal flung itself at the sky. Alvec leaned back and cracked his knuckles; Joat winced. He knows I hate it when he does that.
"Boss," he said after a moment. "How the hell did you manage to sell laser tubes on Schwartztarr?"
Joat grinned. "Well, to a laser manufacturer who'd just gotten a big export order. Spared him the time it would take subcontractors to deliver the components, and it was a pre-tested shipment. Then I bought some electronic components and laser crystals."
Joseph frowned and worked out what he was going to say carefully. "Are laser crystals better than laser tubes?" he said slowly.
"Trust me," Joat said smugly. "In fact-"
"I'm detecting an approaching ship," Rand said. "Its just entered Wyal's sensor range."
"Any special reason you mention it?" Joat asked.
"It's a Central Worlds Navy ship," Rand said apologetically. "A customs corvette."
"Oh no," Alvec said and covered his eyes with one square hand. "Just what we needed. We've got a cargo of knocked-down weapons and we're heading for Rohan and a customs gunboat stops us."
"Don't be so guilty, Al," Joat said with a confident smile. She suppressed an impulse to rub her stomach, where lunch had turned to a cold, congealing lump. Schwartztarr food, she told herself. It tended to the heavy, meat and potatoes and dumplings.
Joseph came in looking sleepy.
"Rand woke me," he explained. "It says we are being approached by a customs corvette."
"Which hasn't even hailed us, for cryin' out loud!" Joat snapped, "Rand!" in exasperation.
"Attention Merchanter Wyal, registry number 776445X. This is Central Worlds Customs ship Charger. Commander Chang-Yarimizu speaking. Please stand by to be boarded."
"Until now," she said, and sighed. "Oh, well, I guess I should be thankful it's not a brainship anyway. Can you imagine what Simeon would say?"
Chapter Nine
Bros Sperin sat hunched over his screen in the hidden security office of The Anvil.
"Police archive," he said to the machine. "Crossref, Ciety, Nomik, crossref, alias-"