CHAPTER SIX
My first thought was that Nikki had reconsidered her decision to let me go and had come back to remedy that mistake. But a bit of judicious window-shopping, along with the use of my thumbnail mirror, showed that my new would-be playmate was an Ihmisit, and furthermore that his outfit was in line with those of the rest of the pedestrians around us. A local, then, or someone who’d at least been here long enough to learn how to blend in. Possibly someone who’d seen my exit and was wondering what I’d been doing in an abandoned building; more likely someone who was fully aware of why I’d been there and wanted to have words of a very different sort.
People who knew me sometimes labeled me as overly talkative. But after my conversation with Nikki, I decided I was done with social activities for the day.
Which didn’t mean I didn’t want to know who this was and what the hell he wanted.
More questions. But at least here I had a chance of finding answers for them. Assuming the Ihmisit back there was a local, he had the advantage of knowing the city and the people far better than I did. But I had determination, a modicum of innate cunning, and maybe a trick or two he hadn’t seen.
First on my list was to pick up a few props. Two storefronts ahead was a place with a selection of small gifts and knickknacks in its window. I walked in, bought an item of the proper size, and asked for it to be gift-wrapped. I then sent the proprietor into the back to look for an item I was pretty sure he didn’t have, and while he was gone I used my knife to carve a hole in the bottom of the gift box that was just the right size to fit my plasmic. When the proprietor returned, empty-handed and apologetic, I thanked him for his efforts and left, the box and hidden plasmic balanced on my right hand while I stabilized the package with my left.
My tail was still there, maybe half a block closer, pretending to window-shop as he waited for me to reappear. I resumed my path back toward the main city and the Ruth; he resumed his path behind me.
Earlier, when I was following Nikki, I’d spotted a couple of likely-looking service alleys along my current route and filed them away for possible future reference. I reached the closer of the two and turned down it, breaking into a run the instant I was out of the Ihmisit’s sight. The alley was short enough that a determined quarry might be able to disappear out the other end before an equally determined pursuer could reach the corner and regain eye contact. The question was how much effort the Ihmisit was willing to put into this, and what kind of physical shape he was in.
I was nearly to the end of the alley when my straining ears heard the soft clump-clump of a walking Ihmisit switch to the pitter-patter-pitter of a running one. But at least he didn’t seem to be armed.
“Stop, human,” a voice demanded hoarsely from behind me. “Stop, or I will shoot.”
I grimaced. So much for him being unarmed. Unless he was bluffing.
In general it wasn’t a good idea to call a bluff like that. Especially when you didn’t have any cover; even more especially when you’d choreographed the confrontation in the first place. I trotted to a halt and turned around, holding my package in front of me like a small and brightly wrapped shield. The Ihmisit had slowed to a fast jog, his left hand gripping a partially concealed handgun tucked behind his waist sash. “What do you want?” I called.
“I mean you no harm,” he said, coming to a more conversational distance of three meters before stopping. “You are Gregory Roarke?”
“Who?” I countered, frowning. As my father used to say, Unless the guy asking who you are is holding a wad of cash, you might as well lead with a denial.
“Gregory Roarke,” he repeated, drawing his gun fully into view and pointing it at me. It was a Pickering 202, I saw, a nice little 2mm job that was a favorite among people who wanted to look fearsome but weren’t willing to spring for something pricier or more effective.
“Never heard of him,” I said. Still, getting shot would definitely hurt, and even with a Pickering if the slug found the right spot it could be fatal. So I kept my hands in sight, one of them flat beneath my package, the other one holding onto the box’s side, and waited for him to figure out his next move.
The move really should have been obvious, and I was vaguely surprised that it took him another few seconds of consideration to come up with it. “Your package,” he said. “Set it on the ground.”
“But it’ll get dirty,” I protested, nodding at the nice gift wrapping. “It’s a gift for my mother.”
“Set it on the ground,” he repeated, gesturing with the Pickering. “There.”
With a theatrical sigh, I squatted down and started to set down the box, shifting my left hand to the side of the box nearest me as if the weight balance had changed. Then, abruptly, I gave the box a hard shove upward and forward, sending it flying in a tight arc straight at the Ihmisit’s face.
Leaving my formerly concealed plasmic resting neatly on my right palm.
The Ihmisit reacted instantly to the object hurling unexpectedly toward him. Unfortunately for him, his species’ hardwired response was to fling both arms up in front of him, crossed at the forearms, to protect his eyes.
Which, even more unfortunately, put his Pickering completely out of firing position.
“Just freeze right there,” I told him, closing my hand around the plasmic’s grip and flicking off the safety. “No need for anyone to get hurt.”
He froze, all right, his arms still crossed—the box had landed harmlessly on the ground in front of him, but no one ever said reflexes were always on the mark—the insectoid antennae jutting out from just above his eyes gone rigid. “You,” he said, his tone making the word an accusation.
“Yes, me,” I agreed, rising back to my feet. “As for you, you’ve just cost me a—well, actually, I have no idea what that gizmo was, but it cost me fifty commarks. But never mind that. What do you want with me?”
“You are Gregory Roarke?” he asked.
“Yes, he is,” a woman’s voice came from behind me. “Holster it, would you, Roarke?”
Keeping my plasmic pointed at the Ihmisit, I turned my head. Standing at the end of the alley, her Siskrin plasmic held casually in front of her and not quite pointed in my direction . . .
“Mindi?” I said, frowning.
“I’m flattered you remember me,” she said with just a hint of sarcasm. “Really, Roarke, just holster it.”
I looked back at the Ihmisit. “Him first.”
“Dukor, put it away,” Mindi said soothingly. “It’s all right—we’re all friends here. Aren’t we, Roarke?”
“Not sure I’d put it that strongly,” I cautioned as the Ihmisit reluctantly tucked his Pickering back behind his sash.
“Well, we’re not enemies, anyway,” Mindi amended, walking toward me. “Unless this has pushed it over the line?”
“Depends on what you want with me,” I said, slipping my plasmic back into its holster. Mindi was a bounty hunter I’d run into on a couple of jobs, and while I didn’t know her well enough to either like or dislike her, she’d always struck me as professional enough. Whatever was going on, at least it wasn’t personal. Probably. “You got here fast. Where were you hiding?”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “I was just doing my famous follow-him-from-in-front routine.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. So she’d been a block or so ahead of me, where I wasn’t paying any particular attention, while Dukor shepherded me in her direction and kept her apprised of my position and any change of direction via phone. “I don’t remember you working with partners before.”
“Not working with them now,” Mindi said, holstering her plasmic as she walked past me. “Partners are way more trouble than they’re worth.”
The Ihmisit rumbled something rude-sounding. “You know what I mean,” Mindi chided him as she pulled out a hundred-commark bill. “Pleasure doing business with you, Dukor. Remember to keep an eye out for any place a weapon could be hidden. Roarke doesn’t shoot the second he gets an opening. The next guy might.”
Dukor took the bill, gave her another rumble, gave me a dark look, then turned and stomped back down the alley. “Here,” I called, retrieving the gizmo and tossing it to him. “Souvenir.”
He didn’t even bother to turn around, but just let it rattle to the ground in front of him. “Or not,” I added.
“Local talent,” Mindi explained as we watched him go. “Unfortunately, the follow-in-front thing requires two people.”
“I seem to remember you also being pretty good at following from behind.”
“Not with someone of your caliber and reputation,” she said. “And yes, that’s a compliment. So what are you doing on Vesperin?”
“Still waiting to hear what you want with me,” I reminded her.
“Actually, not a thing,” she said, eyeing me curiously. “A notice went out that you can pick up some fast cash reporting on the presence and social life of one Gregory Roarke, bounty hunter.”
“Former bounty hunter,” I corrected her automatically, feeling my eyes narrow. “What do you mean, social life? Like which parties I’m being invited to?”
“More like where you’re going and who you’re seeing,” Mindi said. “You still with, ah, what’s-her-name—the Kadolian?”
“Selene,” I supplied. “Yes, and we’re crocketts now.”
“Maybe you think so,” Mindi said. “Not according to the notice. It specifically labeled you as a hunter. So who’ve you made mad?”
“You mean lately?” I shrugged. “No one, as far as I know. Were there any addenda to this notice? Like detain or shoot?”
“If there were, you’d already be in restraints,” Mindi said, eyeing me curiously. “Interesting. So who did you meet in that half-built building?”
“Who says I met anyone?” I countered. “Actually, I was just looking for a good view of the enclave.”
“Sure you were,” Mindi said. “You really are a rotten liar, you know.”
“So I’ve been told,” I conceded. “Sorry; client privilege.”
“I thought you were a crockett now.”
“Not according to your notice,” I pointed out. “If I’m going to be tagged as a hunter, then hunter rules should apply. Tell you what—I’ll trade you. A name for a name. Who’s handing out cash for Gregory Roarke gossip?”
“Uh-huh,” Mindi said, her face taking on a knowing look. “A name, huh? Let me guess. You don’t really know her name, do you?”
I waved a hand. There were times I wasn’t much of a bluffer, either. “I can give you the name I was given. Probably an alias, but it might have cropped up before.”
“Hardly worth the effort, then, is it?” Mindi pointed out. “But I can’t deliver on my side, either, so I suppose it comes out even. The only name on the mail drop is Hades.”
“As in, go to?”
“More likely as in king of the Old Greek mythological hell.”
I scowled. “So we’ve got ourselves a literary type.”
“Or someone who likes to pretend he or she is,” Mindi said. “There are plenty of those out there. So where are you heading after this?”
“Back to the ship to put my feet up and have a drink,” I told her. “After that, I don’t know. Probably get back to crocketting.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mindi said, pulling out her phone. She peered at it, and I could see her eyes moving back and forth as they read a brief message. “Interesting work, crocketting, out there at the edge of nowhere.”
“Not so much the edge as the middle,” I corrected. “No one’s interested in real estate that’s too far off the beaten path.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “Well, I’ve got to go. Work, work, work. Been nice talking to you.”
“Likewise,” I said. “We’ll have to have a drink together someday.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Oh, and I’ll take that name now. Even a bogus one is worth that extra two hundred commarks.”
I frowned. “Two hundred on top of . . . ?”
“On top of the five I’ll already get for reporting your presence on Vesperin.”
I gave a low whistle. “Five plus two is a lot of money.”
“Especially for this much vague.” She shrugged. “But as long as it’s coming in my direction instead of going the other way I’m good with it.”
“Understandable,” I said. “Though as my father used to say, Deep pockets are great when you’re digging into them; not so great when you’re being dug out of them.”
“Don’t worry, this is a one-off deal,” Mindi assured me. “If I was going to chase someone around, I’d pick someone a lot better looking.”
“I’ll remember that when I finally get around to having my face changed,” I said. “She introduced herself as Piper.”
“As in Pied Piper?”
“No idea,” I said. “I’m not as literary as some people. Do I get a cut of that seven hundred, by the way?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Only if you think I hold promise for future colonization. You’re a crockett, remember?”
“Right,” I said. “It’s hard to keep track of me sometimes.”
“I’ll bet,” she said. “See you around, Roarke.”
With a friendly nod she turned and headed down the alley in the direction her hireling had taken. I watched until she disappeared around the corner, then continued on toward the end I’d been heading for when all those guns started pointing at me. I reached the end of the alley, joined the pedestrian flow on that street, and turned back in the direction of the Ruth.
And as I looked casually around me for indications that Mindi might have hired more than one local to keep track of me, I pulled out my phone.
Selene answered on the first vibe. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.
“I’m fine,” I assured her, frowning. There were faint voices in the background. “Where are you?”
“The StarrComm center in Mikilias,” she said. “I thought I should call in an update.”
I sighed silently. Three guesses as to how the admiral had taken the news that we were now traveling with a professional assassin.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing yet,” she said. “I’m still waiting for a booth. The line’s pretty long, too, so I might be a while. Where did she go?”
“Tell you later,” I said, looking around for one of the floating signs that marked the enclave’s runaround stands. Nothing. “Let me find a runaround and I’ll join you.”
“That really isn’t necessary,” she said. “I’m armed, and the city seems safe enough.”
“It’s not the city I’m worried about,” I told her. “Sit tight—I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I keyed off and called up a map of the enclave on my info pad. Ihmisits, unfortunately, tended to be homebodies, and in an area the limited size of this particular enclave they tended to do most of their traveling on foot. There was only one official runaround stand, and it was a solid kilometer away.
I craned my neck, hoping to spot one that the renter had finished with and was now parked along the street. But there was nothing in sight. My best and fastest alternative, I concluded reluctantly, would be to continue on to the spaceport.
For a moment I was tempted to just call it quits, call Selene back and tell her I was going back to the Ruth instead, and let her handle the call. The admiral probably wouldn’t be as hard on her as he typically was on me.
With a sigh, I turned back toward the spaceport. Partners might be trouble, as Mindi said, but Selene, at least, was worth that trouble.
It took me half an hour to get back to the spaceport’s runaround stand, and another half hour to drive across Mikilias to the StarrComm center. I’d reached the big white building and was looking for a place to park when I heard the gunfire.
* * *
By the time I was able to push my way to the front of the crowd gathered outside the StarrComm center, a group of k’Tra badgemen and medics were already on the scene. Four bodies were lying on stretchers, three of them completely covered in the universal sign of respect for the deceased, while three medics had finished their stabilization work on the fourth victim and were rolling the stretcher toward the ambulance. One of the medics leaned over the figure, apparently listening, then half turned to face the crowd. “Is there a Gregory Roarke here?” he called.
I felt my heart freeze. I’d tried calling Selene a dozen times since I heard the shots, but she’d never picked up. “Here!” I shouted, raising my hand as I pushed my way through the last two lines of gawkers between me and the line of badgemen keeping the crowd back. “I’m Roarke.”
“She’s calling for you,” the medic said. “Hurry, please—we need to get her to surgery.”
One of the badgemen started to step in front of me, probably intending to ask for ID. He took one look at my face and thought better of it. I covered the twenty-meter gap at a dead run—
And found myself gazing down into Mindi’s pale face.
My first reaction was sagging relief that it wasn’t Selene. My second was a flash of anger toward whoever the hell had done this to her.
She was barely conscious, her eyelids drooping, the agony starting to fade from her face as the painkillers kicked in. But she was still aware enough to recognize me and give me a wan smile. “Pied Piper, eh?” she murmured, the words muffled by her oxygen mask.
“Who did this, Mindi?” I asked. “Did Piper do it?”
There was no response. Her eyes closed and a huff of breath went out of her parted lips as she lost consciousness.
“That’s all for now,” the medic said, shouldering past me as he and the others went back to rolling the stretcher. “Hospital, Fourth and Dwint. You can talk to her later.”
“Meanwhile, you can talk to us,” the badgeman put in.
“Sure,” I said, watching numbly as they loaded her into the ambulance. I’d seen worse than that—lots worse, including some absolute slaughters. But seldom had I seen someone I’d been talking to barely an hour earlier suddenly fighting for her life with no idea what had happened.
Worse, it sent memories of Selene’s own near fatal shooting surging up through my stomach, throat, and brain and threatening to overwhelm me.
And then, as if teleported there by the sheer force of my anguish and fear, Selene was suddenly at my side. “Gregory?” she whispered.
“Roarke?” the badgeman prompted. “We need your statement. Don’t wander off.”
“I’ll be right back” I said. I took Selene’s arm, as much for my own reassurance as for guidance, and started us back toward the line of k’Tra badgemen. “It was Mindi,” I said. “Do you remember her?”
“Yes, I think so,” Selene said, her eyes following the ambulance as it pulled away. “I’m sorry—I didn’t want my phone on in there and never turned it back on.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I was still inside when the shooting started.”
“So you didn’t see any of it?”
“No.” She touched her fingertips to my hand, still closed around her other arm. “Gregory, Nikki was here.”
“Yeah, I got that impression,” I said grimly, looking at the bodies now being loaded into the other ambulances. No hurry on those, obviously. “Any idea of the weapons involved?”
She inhaled slowly, her nostrils and eyelashes fluttering. “There was a plasmic and at least one mid-caliber firearm,” she said. “I think the three dead men were shot with the plasmic. Mindi was shot with the firearm.”
“Dead men?” I asked. “All three were human?”
“Yes.” She paused, apparently just noticing the oddity of that. “Three humans killed together in a k’Tra city. That seems . . . unusual.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I agreed. “Hold on a second.”
We reached the badgeman line and I started working us back through the dissipating crowd. Now that the show was over and the bodies were out of sight, the onlookers were returning to their regularly scheduled lives. “Okay,” I said when I judged we were clear enough of everyone not to be overheard. “Fact one: Mindi carries a Siskrin plasmic, so she could have been the main shooter. Fact two: she got a message just as we were wrapping up our conversation in the Ihmis enclave.”
“Was it a hunter notice?”
“In hindsight, I’d say that’s likely,” I agreed. “And if she was here hunting, maybe our three less fortunate souls were, too. Did you see any other humans waiting in the StarrComm center?”
“There were a few,” she said slowly. “But that’s probably not unusual, given that it’s the closest center to the human enclave.”
“Which unfortunately just confuses the issue,” I said. “Okay, try this. Did you see an older man there: medium height, slender but working on a paunch, white medium-length hair, no beard, facial wrinkles, overall salesman air?”
“No,” she said. “But the waiting room was large, and there were people in the booths I wouldn’t have seen. Who is he?”
“Horace Markelly, the man Nikki came to see. Just to see,” I added as Selene’s pupils went suddenly tense. “She looked at him, declared him off-limits, and left.”
“What do you mean, off-limits? Off-limits how?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “The point is that she told me she’d been offered a contract on him and was going to turn it down. I’m thinking her prospective client may have hedged his bets by putting extra backup in the area.”
Selene pondered that another couple of steps. “If one of the bodies was Markelly, who were the other two? Bodyguards?”
“Well, he did have four heavies hanging around,” I said, frowning. “But they were all Yavanni. Maybe they were Markelly’s business associates, people he met up with after Nikki and I left. Or else they’re random citizens who got caught in the crossfire.”
“If that’s the case, whoever shot them was a terrible hunter,” Selene said, contempt in her pupils.
“No argument here,” I agreed heavily. Licensed bounty hunters were required by law and ethical guidelines, not to mention sheer personal pride, to keep collateral damage to the absolute minimum. A two-to-one innocent-to-target ratio was both incredibly amateurish and completely unacceptable. “Anyway, there’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s see if the runaround I rented is still where I parked it and get back to the ship.”
“All right.” Again, Selene hesitated. “Gregory, how sure are you that Nikki turned down that contract?”
“Not sure at all,” I said. “All I have is her word on the subject.”
“So she may have been lying,” Selene said. “She may have said that to calm you, then come to the StarrComm center and killed him anyway.”
“If one of the deceased is Markelly,” I cautioned. “We won’t know that for sure until the badgemen release their names.”
Still, Mindi had dropped Nikki’s name there at the end. Why should she do that if Nikki wasn’t the one who’d shot her?
“Yes,” Selene said, coming to a sudden stop. “Wait a moment. We’re going back to the ship? Right now? What about our report?”
“The admiral will keep.”
“What about the badgemen?”
I looked back over my shoulder. The badgeman I’d talked to had been pulled elsewhere. “I’ll send them a statement,” I said. “Right now, I want to get back to the Ruth before Nikki does.”
“She can’t open the entryway.”
“Yes, that’s the theory,” I agreed. “You want to give it a field test?”
“Not really,” Selene murmured. “I think I see a runaround over there. Let’s take it.”