"Oh." Quark turned on his attempt at an ingratiating smile. "Oh, that McHogue. Well, my dear Odo . . ." He spread his hands apart. "I meet so many people in my line of work—as do you. We can't be expected to remember them all, can we?"
"So you only had some minor connection with this person?"
"Who knows?" Quark shrugged. "Perhaps we went in together on a Trilantine lottery ticket. Some small thing like that. It's all lost in the proverbial mists of time, I'm afraid." He slid toward the booth's exit. "Now, if you'll allow me to return to my customers . . ."
Odo reached over and hauled him back by his lapel. With his other hand he took out a data padd and with a press of his thumb brought up a screenful of information. "According to the files, you and this McHogue were equal partners in an Arcturan chartered corporation that was found to be selling worthless stock certificates to the natives of several nondeveloped planets—"
"Now, wait a minute. We told those people that there were risks involved in any financial investment—"
"So, stock fraud; charges were dropped upon seizure of the corporation's assets and a pledge by the principals not to return to the Arcturus system."
"As if I'd ever want to." Quark looked grumpy.
"Let's see, what else do we have . . ." Odo pulled up another screen on the data padd. "Quark and McHogue, joint ownership of a transit-station bar that was determined to be a front for various smuggling operations; a shared indictment on tech-running charges—now, that's interesting. I might want to look into that a little deeper, given the nature of the case I'm currently investigating. Those charges were quashed on a technicality. . . ."
"Why is it that when people like me are found innocent, people like you always say it's 'on a technicality'?"
Odo didn't look up from the data padd. "That's because, as we both know, there is the law . . . and then there are the lawyers. What else . . ." He slowly shook his head. "This is a very long list, Quark. Impressive in its own way. You've been a busy person over the years—but then Ferengi are noted for their industrious personalities, aren't they? I'm amazed that you were able to find a non-Ferengi partner who was able to keep up with all your energy." He laid the data padd down. "Is the point I wish to make sufficiently clear to you now? Let's just say that if we were to go into a courtroom, and you made this claim of barely knowing our mysterious McHogue, you'd quickly be found guilty of perjury."
Each detail from the files had hammered Quark farther in his seat. "Give me a break," he pleaded. "All right, I knew the man—all right, all right, I did business with him, even—but all that was years ago."
"I assume that the two of you must have had some sort of falling-out. I'm not surprised; it would be difficult to imagine anyone who could stay hooked up with you for very long, Quark."
The Ferengi seized on the security chief's remark. "That's right," he said quickly. "A big, big falling-out. Why, we wouldn't have anything to do with each other now if our lives depended upon it."
"Is that so?" Odo mulled over the statement for a few seconds. "Then you certainly shouldn't have any reluctance about providing information against someone who's no longer your partner, but has actually become your competitor."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't waste my time, Quark. Let's just say there's a certain matter of the holosuites that you run here on the Promenade, and a number of holosuites elsewhere in the station that are not yours. That make your operation look hygienic by comparison."
"Oh." Quark's expression turned glum. "You know about those, huh?"
"You were the one who as much as complained to me about the 'unfair competition' they represented to your own enterprises."
"I did? Well, in that case—" Quark's face brightened. "Complaint withdrawn. I've decided that unrestricted free enterprise is, after all, the Ferengi way. Now, if you'll excuse me . . ." He started to scoot out again, but stopped when he saw Odo's hand coming for him.
"This is a little more serious than your business problems. Odo laid his hand flat on the table between them. "Two things you should consider: first, there's been an epidemic of murder aboard the station, and we've determined that it's related both to those altered holosuites and to your former partner McHogue."
Quark looked puzzled. "What's the second thing?"
"The second thing is that I've reached the end of my patience with you. Start talking."
"All right, all right." Quark took a deep breath. "There's somebody aboard the station and he's been walking around, claiming to be McHogue. He even came here to my bar and talked to me."
"What about?"
"His latest scheme. It was something to do with the holosuites; he wanted to use mine for whatever he had up his sleeve. Told me he'd cut me in on the profits. But I didn't even want to hear whatever it was he'd cooked up; I eighty-sixed him right out of the place. He gave me the creeps."
"Why?"
Quark leaned across the table. "Because he's not McHogue. I should know, right? I spent a lot of time with the real one. I don't know who this person is, but he's no former partner of mine."
Odo frowned. "But he does look like McHogue. Correct?"
"So? That sort of thing can always be faked." A thin smile lifted the corners of Quark's mouth. "You have to remember, my dear Odo, that Ferengi can see into other people's souls—well, a certain part of them, at least. It's what makes us so good at what we do. I looked into this pseudo-McHogue, and there was nothing that I recognized. There wasn't even anything that I wanted to deal with."
"That's an unusual display of morality on your part."
"I have my standards." Quark drew himself up, as if offended. "Of practicality, if nothing else. This imposter didn't fill me in on what his plans were for the holosuites—I cut him off before he could even start to tell me. And now it appears as if my assessment of this person—whoever he is—was right." Quark shook his head. "I mean, after all—a murder epidemic? Turning your patrons into killers—how you build up any repeat business that way? Let alone what'll happen to your other customers."
For a moment, Odo was silent, trying to piece this datum in with he had already discovered. "There was no visual ID of McHogue in the Starfleet files—"
"Isn't it amazing what can be accomplished with a little bribery?"
He ignored that. "Can you give a description of McHogue? Or this person claiming to be him?"
"Oh, I can do better than that." Quark reached into a pocket of his coat; on the tabletop he deposited a small, glimmering data disk. "As you're no doubt aware, I'm in the habit of recording everyone who comes into my establishment here—for security purposes."
"And the occasional blackmail."
"If people lead such messy lives that they wind up embarrassed to be seen patronizing a harmless entertainment facility, that's their problem. In this case, I think you'll appreciate the results of my precautions." Quark pushed the disk across the table. "I was debating with myself whether I should turn this over to you. Fortunately, my sense of responsibility, as one of DS9's leading citizens, seems to have prevailed."
"Fortunately," said Odo dryly. He picked the disk up between his thumb and forefinger and studied it.
"I think you'll find everything you need on there. So I'll just be . . . running along . . . if that's all right with you."