Mainline (27 page)

"Hm. Security is forcing a housecleaning of Selmun Customs. After the dust settles we could put Karuu back in, let him grease palms again so our cargo channels stay open. He was the best we had----I'll have to think about that."

He stared into the distance, where orange-hued flights of mating grieko twined and plummeted in mid-air. "This Lish, though. She's pissed me off. Big headaches started with that one." His deep-set eyes narrowed as one bird stabbed a rival with its lengthy beak, and the wounded grieko tumbled from the sky.

"I don't want her cluttering up the landscape anymore," he added. "Take care of it, Janus."

The investigation into
Behr's dirty linen had revealed a bigger puzzle than Commander Obray had expected. Finally they were close to making sense of the big picture.

The payoffs in the Governor-General's accounts correlated to only one thing: when freighters delivered cargo to the deep domes, a stock company kicked out a payoff for nonexistent "dividends." Storage warehouses were at maximum capacity near Amasl and other port cities. Together with a few other tidbits, it added up to one distinct footprint.

Brace surveyed the data and came to the same conclusion. "Maybe it goes like this," he offered. "Freighters carry land-made goods out to the wetdomes. Somewhere along the way, they stash half the cargo. The other half a shipload is delivered to dome-dwellers, who are charged double the price for their goods. That way the freight run brings in exactly as much money as it's supposed to. From the dome-dwellers' viewpoint, they've paid twice what an item is worth, but no one is listening to their complaints anyway. Intradome trade is so restricted, they're compelled to buy from surface manufacturers. They must think inflated prices are the norm."

Obray traced the warehouse graph with a sim-finger. "Meanwhile, diverted cargos are lifted offworld. They can't do it these last two or three weeks, since we're watching for smugglers, so storage is getting used up."

"Right." Brace pointed back at routine warehouse figures. "But when those goods sell offworld, they must clear a huge profit on every cargo load they got for free."

Obray whistled. "That could be it," he mused. A routine diversion of cargo, leaching the economic lifeblood from the single biggest market on R'debh—the undersea population that numbered in the billions.

The netrunner surveyed the graphics again, looking for holes in their theory. "Don't you think this would have been discovered by now?" he wondered aloud.

The Commander shrugged. "I bet not many individuals have put this whole chain of events together. Dockworkers might suspect some local smuggling is going on, but that seems to be R'debh's favorite pastime, wouldn't you say?"

Brace nodded agreement as Obray turned from the incriminating databits. "If this is the right scenario, it's up to us to prove it."

"More digging?" Captain Brace looked pained.

"More digging. I want to know where this money trail leads."

"I'm on it."

Obray unjacked from the desk console and smiled with elation. Soon they would have proof of wrongdoing that reached from the waterfront to the Governor-General's office.

And that, he knew, could be much more rewarding than a routine hunt for terrorists.

"Alright, Flash, cut the crap. A late payment on 100k is no reason to undercut a Holdout's well-earned profit. You want to work for Lish again, or not?"

The assassin spoke as if the smuggler were not in the room, even though that was not the case. Lish stood beside the desk, letting Reva use the com link to wrestle FlashMan into some semblance of agreeability.

“Don't care about working for her again, babe,''
came the flip reply.
"If she doesn't have my help to pull this off, there won't he a next time.''

The Flash was ever-faceless on a com link, but Reva knew he could see her through the vid pickup. She put on a cold-eyed glare for his benefit, the edges of her mouth going hard.

"Do you want to work again, ever?" she asked him.

There was a beat of silence from the com unit.
"Aw, Reva. Don't start—"

"Don't you start, Flash. Here, take this." She pulled her credmeter, fed it into the data transfer slot, and keyed a number into the datapad.

"What's that?"
Flash asked, echoing Lish's unspoken question.

"It's the belated bonus, plus a little for your patience. We're renegotiating this contract. You don't mind, do you?"

The question seemed ominous, coming from the assassin. "Urn
... no. Guess not.''
It was the first, and probably the last, time Lish would ever hear FlashMan sound unsure of himself. Before she could protest Reva's unwanted generosity, the tall woman thumbed the transfer tab, and 110,000 credits fed from her meter into the FlashMan's net account.

She tugged the card out with flick of her wrist. "Now let's get down to business."

The talk was terse and to the point. In the end, FlashMan agreed to the same deal he had with Lish, plus 1 percent more profit. His news, it turned out, was worth it.

"Here you go,"
he said on the room speaker.
"Found this in Lanzig's personal files. A little snippet you might like to hear."

The log recorder switched on and a holographic projection bloomed to life over the top of the desk console. It was Alia Lanzig, captured as pale-skinned and calculating as in life, speaking into what she thought was her inviolate personal log.

"The work on the borgbeasts is done, except for the final step. I told the Camisq not to bother; I want that adaptation saved for later. That way, if they prove uncontrollable, or anything else goes wrong, they're easy to get rid of.... I suppose for the record I should say more."

The miniature Lanzig leaned forward, pressed some keys on her console, not visible in the recording.
"Encryption routines,"
FlashMan muttered.
"Decoded for you on this segment. "

Lanzig leaned back and continued. "The borgbeasts have a fatal flaw. For that matter, so do their handlers. Namely, natives of Vernoi cannot digest the foodstuffs in the oceans of R'debh. They lack a particular enzyme required to absorb nutrients from this food. They'll eat, they'll feel full, but they will in fact be starving to death, unless and until this enzyme is introduced into their systems. Once this adaptation is made, they can flourish and survive in our seas. I haven't mentioned this to anyone else, because Edesz and his friends will want to have sole control over the beasts. They may think they do, but they won't." A smug smile played about Lanzig's mouth. "The Camisq know what enzyme is lacking and can manufacture it with self-replicating nanotech. They're waiting back on Tion for the order, should I choose to issue it. I haven't done so yet. I'll wait and see how things go first."

The holovid faded to black, and in the silence that followed, Reva heard Lish inhale and hold her breath.

"You stay like that, you're going to explode," she remarked over her shoulder. "Thank you, FlashMan. I owe you a dinner for that one."

"You're too kind."
Flash sounded both flattered and unhappy at the extortion that had brought him to share his data.
"Well— I'm off for now.''

"Wait. The order codes and Camisq contacts?"

"Already downlinked and in your console."

"Thanks, Flash," Lish spoke in a rush of breath.

The netrunner was already offline. Reva swiveled in the chair and was pleased to see the sudden difference in Lish's face. Gone was the shadow that had dogged her demeanor since she first learned of Lanzig's death. The information about the borgbeasts could turn this all around.

"This is invaluable, Reva." Her eyes glowed brightly as she reached out and grasped her friend's shoulder, concern over
roi'tas
forgotten in her exhilaration. "Thank—"

"Don't say it." The assassin held up a hand to ward off the gratitude.

Lish squeezed her shoulder instead. "Well. You know what I mean."

The smuggler spun away and crossed to the door in a few strides. "Bring Devin from Akatnu Field," she told a Skiffjam-mer in the hall. "When he's here, have Vask join us." The sergeant saluted, and Lish closed the door.

"Now we'll get some things done around here!" she said, and grinned triumphantly at Reva.

"A run to
Tion?" Devin pondered out loud. "That's about three, four days, if you stay off the shipping lanes. More space hazard that way, though."

"Can you do it?" Lish asked.

"Yes." Devin blew air through his lips. "But we've got our work cut out for us. I'll need more help at the ship."

"You've got it."

"There's one other thing," Reva spoke up. "How you gonna pay for this? The Camisq will want a credit dump, and that was a big price they quoted Lanzig."

Lish blushed. "I was coming to that. I was hoping you, any of you, could pitch in on this. You know once we have the nanotech we as good as have our payoff. But I'm a little short...."

"No need to explain," Devin brushed her embarrassment aside. "How much is this going to cost?"

"One hundred."

Eyebrows went up around the table. "I've got lk you can have," offered Vask. "It's not much, I know, but it's a start."

"Eight k," offered Devin. "It's all I have."

"Beldy spines," said Reva, scowling around the table. "Keep your small change. I'll front you, Lish."

The announcement caught the smuggler short, caused her to cough nervously. Enough was enough. She began to shake her head in automatic refusal. "You already—"

"Forget it," the assassin cut her off. "I'm in this far, aren't I? I guess I'll get it back, one way or another."

Lish saw the stubbornness in Reva's hazel eyes, and warred with herself over a yes or no. In the gift and acceptance of such aid, Lish became indebted to her far beyond the sum of money involved. Their casual ties became more formal, a bond of honor and obligation that bred countless intricacies in Sa'adani relationships—

But we're not in Sa'adani space, Lish reminded herself. And I need the money.

Plain need again overrode personal reservations, and the Holdout finally nodded her agreement. Reva brushed off her mumbled appreciation, and transferred credits from her meter again, this time directly to Lish's account.

The party broke up. Devin and Vask went back to the ship, four Skiffjammers in tow.. Reva was shown to a room, and Lish went to bed early, finally allowing herself to relax after days burdened by ever-present worries.

In the light by the bedside, behind a locked door, Reva pulled out her credmeter once again. The portable device held her fortune, for she who moved Timelines away from banks and institutions trusted only the cash or credit she could carry on her.

She studied her balance and grimaced. Five hundred CR. Not 5,000, but 500. That wasn't enough for a decent hotel suite, or a ticket offworld.

"You're broke, idiot." She scolded herself for being so loose with her funds, then thought better of it. Lish needed the help, and she was the only one who could offer it.

Besides, it was only money. There's always more where that came from, she thought, putting the credmeter away. Guess it's time to take another job.

In the morning,
Reva made a quick run into Amasl in her rented skimmer. She went to a starport com booth, punched in a special call code and waited for the subspace connect.

"Reva?" a man said. "This is unexpected."

"Janus." She acknowledged her invisible connection. "I'm back on the market. Have anything for me?"

"Ah... yes, we might. Can you hold for a moment?"

"Yes."

"Disconnect, please, and I'll call you right back."

She complied, knowing that Janus would reroute his call through encrypted relays outside the public comnet. A few moments later, the booth received an incoming call.

"Yes?" she said to the blank vidscreen.

"Kamisku Benulu?" queried a woman's synthesized voice.

"Benulu gesku," Reva replied in Ganandi. A moment later, Janus was back on the line.

"Special terms with this job," he said. "One week turnaround, no longer. Double fee, cash advance, as per your terms. Still interested?"

Cash advance. "I'll take it."

"Good. This is on Selmun III as well. Ready to downlink?"

"Ready."

"Dossier follows."

She waited for the subspace dump to finish. Then she opaqued and soundproofed the booth, and hit the playback.

Janus' voice filled the cubicle.

"Target," he said, beginning the standard narrative. "Shiran Gabrieya Lish. Last known business address: Comax Shipping, Lairdome 7, Amasl. Shiran is a Holdout, operating from ..."

The words blurred together behind the ringing in her ears. Janus' briefing droned on, and Reva heard not a word of it.

I warned her, she thought. I warned her about Adahn, and now it comes home at last.

I can't do this.