The Domino Pattern (17 page)

As it turned out, we didn’t have to go all the way to first to confront Kennrick. We found him sitting in the late Master Bofiv’s seat, conversing earnestly with Master Tririn. “There you are,” Kennrick said, standing up as Bayta and I stopped beside them. “I was looking for you earlier.”

“And now you’ve found me,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

Kennrick hesitated, then looked down at Tririn. “Master Tririn, with your permission, I’ll get back to you later on this.”

[As you wish, Mr. Kennrick,] the Shorshian said with a polite nod. [Mr. Compton, have you any further information on the tragic deaths of my colleagues?]

“We’re making progress,” I said. “As soon as we have anything solid, I’ll let you and the rest of the contract team know.”

[Those of us who remain, at least,] he said heavily.

“Yes,” I conceded. “Regardless, you
will
be informed.” I raised my eyebrows to Kennrick. “Mr. Kennrick?” I said, gesturing for him to step out.

Carefully, Kennrick stepped past the Nemut in the aisle seat and joined us. “Shall we try the bar?” he suggested. “I don’t know how your head feels, but my ribs could use a drink.”

I gestured. “Lead the way.”

We walked past Terese German, who was playing her usual oblivious self behind the social barrier of her headphones, and continued forward. “You looked like a man in full fire-control mode,” I commented to Kennrick as we walked through the next car.

“You have no idea,” he said grimly. “
Esantra
Worrbin is calling for a binding vote on the contract, even though the terms explicitly state that such a vote can’t be taken until we reach Rentis Tarlay Birim and the team presents its findings to the Maccai Corporation controllers.
Asantra
Muzzfor and
Asantra
Dallilo are insisting we follow the terms as written.
Esantra
Worrbin has countered by threatening to pull rank on them and possibly even revoke their
santra
status if they don’t go along with him.”

“Can he do that?”

“A simple
esantra
? Of course not. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.”

“And you were back here trying to talk Master Tririn onto your side?” I suggested.

Kennrick exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure I even have a side anymore,” he said ruefully. “Like you said, from here on it’s pure fire control. I’d settle for calming things enough that the Filiaelians and Shorshians don’t put Pellorian Medical on eternal blacklist.”

“Not much of a payoff for all the time and money you’ve put into this thing,” I sympathized.

“Hopefully, my bosses will understand,” Kennrick said grimly. “Frankly, I’m more worried about Dr. Witherspoon than I am about myself.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why?”

Kennrick gave me a sideways look. “Nothing,” he said. “I shouldn’t even have mentioned it.”

“Well, now that you have, you might as well give us the rest of it,” I said.

He grimaced. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter now. The fact of the matter is that Master Colix had some work done while the contract team was on Earth. Medical work.”

“You mean the throat job?” I asked.

He stared at me. “You knew about that?”

“We were told he and his seatmates were chattering up a storm,” I said. “What does Dr. Witherspoon have to do with it? He wasn’t the surgeon, was he?”

“Good God no,” Kennrick said. “But he was the one who talked Master Colix into having it at Pellorian instead of waiting until he got back home.”

“Why did he do that?”

“Which he?” Kennrick asked. “Master Colix or Dr. Witherspoon?”

“Both,” I said.

“Witherspoon wanted to show the contract team how competent Humans were at surgical work. Master Colix liked the idea of getting the work done for free.” Kennrick grimaced. “Free. It only cost him his life.”

“Those freebies will get you every time,” I murmured. So Kennrick was also thinking that Colix’s demise had to do with the dishonor of his Gibber Operation. Interesting. “Any of his colleagues in particular take offense at his decision?”

“None of the other three Shorshians liked it, I can tell you that,” Kennrick said. “Master Bofiv, in particular, was quite vocal in his objections.” He grunted. “But I suppose he doesn’t qualify as a suspect anymore, does he?”

“Not unless his return ticket covers more options than the Spiders currently offer,” I said.

Kennrick grunted again. “Yeah. The Spiders.”

Beside me, I felt Bayta stir. This wasn’t the first time that Kennrick had mentioned Spiders in a disparaging way. Bayta hadn’t liked it then, either. “You have a problem with the Spiders?” I asked.

“That depends,” he said. “But let’s not discuss that until we have some more privacy.”

“This’ll do,” I said, gesturing to the third-class dining car just ahead.

He frowned. “
Here
? First class has a better selection.”

“First class is twenty-four cars away,” I pointed out. “I’m thirsty right now.”

He grimaced. “Fine.”

The bar was reasonably crowded, but we were able to snag a two-person table and a spare chair. “So what exactly is your problem with the Spiders?” I asked after we’d ordered our drinks and the server had left.

Kennrick’s eyes shifted to Bayta. “Actually, this particular conversation is probably more for Bayta than for you,” he said. “She’s the one who seems to have an in with the Spiders.”

“I’m listening,” Bayta said evenly.

“I want to ask them a favor.” Kennrick seemed to brace himself. “I wondered if they’d be willing to accept some of the responsibility for the four deaths.”

Bayta stiffened. “
What
?”

“Just as a formality,” Kennrick hastened to assure her. “A public relations thing. I just want something that’ll deflect a little of the blame away from Pellorian.”

“And onto the
Spiders
?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Kennrick insisted. “The victims’ families or organizations aren’t going to bring the Spiders to court or anything. I’m just trying to salvage something out of this mess.”

“And why do you think the Spiders should be giving you that cover?” I asked. “What have they done to deserve taking that kind of PR hit?”

“What has Pellorian Medical done?” Kennrick retorted. “Nothing, that’s what. But you can bet your pension someone’s going to try to blame us anyway.”

“Not if we catch the murderer first,” I said.

He snorted. “If there even
is
a murderer,” he growled. “As far as I can see, this whole mess can be explained by purely natural causes.” He looked pointedly at Bayta. “Or rather,
unnatural
causes.”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Meaning food poisoning,” he said bluntly.

“How do you explain someone poisoning their food without them noticing?” I asked.

“
I’m
not convinced anyone did,” Kennrick said. “I’m thinking the cadmium was in the food to begin with.”

“Quadrail food isn’t contaminated,” Bayta said flatly.

“Then it must have been in the air,” Kennrick persisted. “Food and air are the only ways to get something into a person’s system.”

“Really?” Bayta said icily. “As it happens—”

“As it happens, we’ve already checked the food
and
the air,” I interrupted, gripping Bayta’s knee warningly under the table. “However the cadmium got into their systems, it wasn’t because of anything the Spiders did wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Kennrick said. “But they can’t tap-dance their way out from under liability for
Usantra
Givvrac’s death.
They’re
the ones who let in whatever that damn antibacterial spray was that ended up killing him.”

“People carry antibacterial sprays aboard Quadrails all the time,” I reminded him. “This is the first time in seven hundred years that it’s caused a problem.”

“Do we really know that?” he asked. “Or do we just have the Spiders’ word for it?”

He looked at Bayta, clearly challenging her to respond. I gripped her knee a little harder, and she remained silent. “Right,” Kennrick said, turning back to me. “So here’s the deal. Either the Spiders voluntarily step up to the line and accept some of the responsibility, or I’ll step them up to that line myself.”

“By spreading rumors?” I asked.

“By spreading truth,” he said. “Slanted a little, maybe. But truth just the same.”

“You could start a panic,” I warned. “With the train still over three weeks from Venidra Carvo, that would be a very bad idea.”

“Like you walking around talking about murder isn’t just as bad?” Kennrick countered.

“Yes, but I’ve got facts on my side,” I pointed out. “All you’ve got is innuendo.” I cocked an eyebrow. “
And
a fair chance of getting locked up somewhere if the Spiders decide you’re scaring the passengers.”

“They’d better not,” Kennrick bit out. “If they even
think
about—” He broke off. “Look. I’m trying to be reasonable about this. I really am. But I’m between the rock and the grinder here, and my whole future is on the line. All I want is for the Spiders to acknowledge that they
might
maybe have a little responsibility for what’s happened. Just enough to lift some of the weight off Pellorian. Come on—what can it hurt?”

“Okay, you’ve presented your case,” I said. “Was there anything else?”

There was a flicker of something in Kennrick’s eyes. Maybe he didn’t like being talked to like he was my underling. “No, that’s it,” he said.

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll take your request under consideration. In the meantime, I trust you’ll keep your private rumor mill shut down.”

His lip twitched. “For now,” he agreed. “But
only
for now. And only if there aren’t more deaths.”

“Fine,” I said again. “Nice talking to you.”

Bayta stirred as if preparing to get up. I again squeezed her knee, and she subsided. I also stayed put, and after a few seconds Kennrick got the message. “Right,” he said. “See you later.” He picked up his drink and strode out of the bar, heading forward toward the upper-class sections and their better selection of drinks.

I watched until he had disappeared from view. “Nice guy,” I commented, letting go of Bayta’s knee and taking a sip of my iced tea.

“If he thinks the Spiders are going to take any responsibility for this, he’s crazy,” Bayta said stiffly. “Why didn’t you let me tell him about the hypo marks?”

“Partly because it wouldn’t have done any good,” I said. “He could claim those marks came from the medical treatments Witherspoon and Aronobal gave the Shorshians before they died.”

“The doctors would say otherwise.”

“They
could
say otherwise,” I corrected her. “The question is,
would
they? Especially Witherspoon—don’t forget that as a fellow Pellorian employee he’s in the same leaky boat as Kennrick. But the more important reason not to mention the marks is that Kennrick doesn’t need to know about them. Information is leverage in this game, Bayta. Never give people more of it than they need.”

“Even if it means letting someone get away with murder?”

“A temporary situation only,” I promised. “Patience is a virtue.”

Her eyes were still burning, but she reluctantly nodded. “I know.”

“Good,” I said. “Meanwhile, what’s happening with our mystery guest?”

She gazed off into space. “He’s gone into a restroom,” she said. “Three cars ahead, the car just behind the second/third dispensary.”

A bad feeling began to rumble through me. “How long ago was that?” I asked.

“About ten minutes.”

The bad feeling grew stronger. “Has anyone come out during that time?”

“Two Filiaelians and a Human,” Bayta said, a dark edge starting to come into her voice. “Oh, no. You don’t think—?”

“Yes, I think,” I growled. “Can you get a mite into the ceiling over that restroom?”

“It won’t help—he won’t be able to get into the lighting or ventilation grilles,” Bayta said tightly. “I could have a conductor go in and take a look.”

“Don’t bother,” I said, trying not to sound as angry as I felt. Damn stupid non-initiative-taking Spiders. “If by some miracle he hasn’t flown the coop, that would just tip him off. If he has, it’s already too late, and having a conductor charge in there would just start all the rest of the passengers wondering.”

“I suppose,” Bayta said, sounding miserable. “I’m sorry, Frank. I should have told the Spiders to alert us at once if he went out of sight.”

“Yes, you probably should have,” I agreed, a little more sharply than I should have. “But even if they had, you could hardly have said anything. Not with Kennrick sitting right there listening.”

“But I could at least have let you know something was wrong,” Bayta said. “We could have made an excuse and gotten away.” She grimaced. “I
did
warn them he might take off his cloak and hood and so to pay particular attention to everyone’s shoes.”

“And did they?”

“Yes,” she said. “But they insist none of the passengers who came out were wearing the same style of shoes as our attacker.”

“He was probably wearing oversilks,” I said. “Very thin, very light covers you can wear over other clothing. A good quick-change artist can get them off in seconds, even faster if he’s got them tear-threaded to a magician’s pull. He can then either flush everything down the toilet or else drop the pull into his pocket and stroll innocently back to his seat. The cloak and hood were probably made of the same stuff.”

“Sounds very neat,” Bayta said sourly.

“Very neat, and very fancy,” I agreed. “And it tells us something new about him.”

“That he’s a professional?”

“No, we knew that from the trip wire,” I said. “What we know now is that he knows about our chummy connection with the Spiders.”

She frowned. “We do? How?”

“Because the only reason to wear a disguise out of the baggage car is if he thought we might have a partner watching for him. But if he was assuming a
Human
partner, he should have pulled his quick-change as soon as he was out of sight inside the first vestibule.”