The Domino Pattern (25 page)

It was ten minutes to ten, and Bayta and I were just finishing a light breakfast, when Emikai arrived. “I trust I’m not overly early?” he asked, glancing around the dining car as if he expected the killer to be wearing a sign announcing his identity.

“Not at all,” I told him, standing up and offering Bayta my hand. She didn’t need my help, of course, but Filly cops were genetically engineered toward courtesy, and my show of politeness toward my partner might buy me a few points when it came time to shake him down for more information. “The rest of the group should be assembled,” I added as I gestured to the entryway. “Shall we go?”

I led the way four cars to the rear. Kennrick and the three remaining contract-team Fillies were indeed there, sitting in a circle and talking earnestly. For once, there were no dealt cards sitting in front of the group. “Greetings to you,
Esantra
Worrbin,” I greeted the head of the group. “And to you,
Asantra
Muzzfor, and you,
Asantra
Dallilo,” I continued, nodding to each in turn. “I appreciate your giving me a few moments of your time.”

“What’s
he
doing here?” Kennrick growled, eyeing Emikai darkly.

“I asked him to join us,” I said.

“And he got free how?”

“It was actually pretty easy once I’d cut his ropes,” I said. “The reason I asked you all here—”

“Without consulting any of us first?” Kennrick interrupted. “Our opinions and concerns don’t matter?”

“Actually, no, they don’t,” I said. “The reason I asked you all here was so that you could bear witness to the end of the ordeal. I finally know the identity of the murderer.”

Muzzfor sat up a little straighter. “You’ve found him?” he asked, an edge to his voice. “Why did you not say so earlier?”

“Because until last night I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” I told him. “I thought—”

“Last
night
?” Muzzfor echoed. “And yet you waited until now to speak? How many more of us might have died in the dark hours because of your lack of haste?”

“You aren’t in any danger,” I assured him. “Not anymore. The contract team was indeed the target, but not for the reasons we all thought.”

“A moment,” Worrbin spoke up. “If this matter concerns the contract team, all members should be present. Master Tririn and Dr. Witherspoon must be summoned.”

“He’s right,” Kennrick seconded. “And as long as you’re going to get them passed up from third, you might as well go the whole dit rec mystery route and have the rest of the suspects join us, too.”

“Which suspects are those?” I asked.

“All of
his
friends,” Kennrick said, nodding toward Emikai. “Dr. Aronobal and that Human girl, Terese whatever.”

“Terese German,” I said. “Actually, she’s not a suspect. Never was, really, if you think about it.”

“Why not?” Dallilo asked, gazing down his long Filly nose at Emikai.

“Because
di
-Master Strinni and
Usantra
Givvrac were killed here in first class,” I said. “Ms. German didn’t have access to this part of the train.”

“Dr. Aronobal did, though,” Kennrick persisted. “She and Dr. Witherspoon were making the rounds between here and third all the time.”

“True,” I agreed. “Still, I think we can dispense with their company for the present.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “So, Kennrick. You want to tell everyone why you killed them? Or shall I?”

I’d said it so casually that for the first couple of seconds no one seemed to get it. Then, almost in unison, Worrbin and the others turned to look at Kennrick. “You’re not serious,” Worrbin said, sounding stunned. “Mr.
Kennrick
?”

“Absolutely serious,” I assured him, watching Kennrick closely. His eyes were just starting to widen with shock as the words sank in. Exactly the correct reaction, with exactly the correct timing. The man was good, all right. “Would you like to make a statement, Kennrick?”

“Yes,” Kennrick said, coming out of his pretended paralysis. “I want to state that you’re completely and certifiably insane. Where in
hell
do you get off making outrageous accusations like that?”

“Truth is never popular, is it?” I said regretfully. “Fine—if you don’t want to tell them, I will. The point is—”

“Just a moment, Mr. Compton,” Worrbin interrupted me. “I have no great personal affection for Mr. Kennrick, but you cannot simply make public statements like that without proof in hand.
Have
you such proof?”

“Let’s take this one step at a time,” I suggested. “The point is—”

“I knew it,” Kennrick muttered under his breath. “I
knew
you didn’t just quit Westali. Loose damn cannon—they fired your butt, didn’t they?”

“The point is,” I said, raising my voice a little, “and the point we all missed, was that the murders had nothing to do with the contract itself. They were, in fact, an experiment. A field test to see if a new kind of murder technique could be slipped through Spider security and used aboard a Quadrail.”

Around us, the car was starting to quiet down as more and more passengers tuned in on our conversation. “What is this technique?” Muzzfor asked.

“Nothing I care to talk about in the open,” I said. “But trust me, it works.”

“And I presume you’ve got an explanation for how
Usantra
Givvrac and the three Shorshians died in entirely different ways?” Kennrick demanded. “Come on, Compton. Playing detective can be fun, but you’re way over the line with this one.”

“Actually, I believe
Usantra
Givvrac’s death was mostly accidental,” I said. “Collateral damage, as it were, from
di
-Master Strinni’s murder.”

Muzzfor stirred in his seat. “
Esantra
Worrbin, I submit that this is not the proper venue for such a sensitive discussion,” he said, looking significantly around the car.

“Agreed,” Worrbin said grimly. “We must find a place with more privacy.”

“We can go to my compartment,” Kennrick offered. “There’s enough room there.”

“Or you can just confess and surrender now,” I suggested. “Once you’re properly secured, I can go over the details with the others at their convenience.”

Kennrick snorted. “If you think I’m going to confess to something I didn’t do, you’re crazy.”

“I further submit that if there is to be a medical discussion that Dr. Witherspoon be asked to join us,” Muzzfor continued.

“And Dr. Aronobal, too,” Kennrick added. “She and Witherspoon are the only ones with access to hypos.”

I felt a surge of relieved affirmation. I’d hoped he would fall for that one. “And how exactly did you know the three Shorshic bodies had hypo marks in them?” I asked.

If this had been a proper dit rec mystery, Kennrick would have inhaled sharply as he belatedly realized the folly of his revelation. Unfortunately, here in the real world, he was right on top of it. “How else could the poison have gotten into their systems?” he retorted without hesitation. “Besides, whoever jumped you and Witherspoon wanted that replacement hypo for
something
.”

“He’s correct,” Muzzfor said. “Such obvious deduction is hardly proof of any wrongdoing.”

“No, the murderer wanted the hypo for something, all right,” I confirmed. “But not as a replacement. Kennrick knew I was sniffing around the other possible methods for introducing poison into someone’s system, and he decided he needed to send me off in the wrong direction.”

Worrbin grunted. “You make no sense.”

“Actually, I make perfect sense,” I countered. Kennrick’s expression, I noted, was still walking that realistic path between bewilderment and outrage.

But there should have been something else there, too, a hint of concern as I backed him slowly into a corner. Only there was no such concern that I could detect.

What did he know that I didn’t?

“His best shot at a wrong direction was to make me think the cadmium that killed Master Colix and the others had been injected,” I continued. “So the night I was attacked he hid under the sleep canopy in
di
-Master Strinni’s vacant seat, knowing either Dr. Aronobal or Dr. Witherspoon would eventually show up in answer to
Osantra
Qiddicoj’s call for medical help. It was just my bad luck I decided to stick with Dr. Witherspoon that night. Kennrick waited until we’d passed, clobbered both of us, and stole the hypo.”

“I was in my compartment,” Kennrick said in a tone of strained patience. “The Spider who came for me will testify to that.”

“By
then
you were, sure,” I said. “After you got the hypo, you slipped past the activity in the dispensary and beat it back to your compartment so you could pretend to be asleep when we sent for you.”

I looked back at the three Fillies. “But later that night, once things had calmed down, he went back to the morgue and made needle marks in the bodies. He also made sure to break off the needle tip in
di
-Master Strinni to make us think that was the reason the murderer needed a replacement hypo. After that, he probably just dumped the rest of the hypo down the toilet into the reclamation system.”

“You say he wanted you to think the poison had been injected,” Muzzfor said. “What makes you think it wasn’t?”

“Because I availed myself of the services of
Logra
Emikai,” I told him. “He’s a former law enforcement officer who specialized in forensic investigations, and he confirmed that the hypo marks had been made postmortem.”

The three Fillies looked questioningly at each other. “Is that the sum of your evidence, Mr. Compton?” Worrbin asked.

“Isn’t it enough?” I countered.

“No, it is not,” Worrbin said flatly. “I’m not convinced.”

I grimaced. That wasn’t really surprising, I conceded, given that Kennrick had avoided all my guilty-reaction traps and I couldn’t afford to give them my actual evidence. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I told Worrbin. “But that’s certainly your privilege. This was just a courtesy call anyway.”

“What do you mean, a courtesy call?” Worrbin demanded, his blaze darkening ominously.

“I mean that I really don’t have to convince any of you of Kennrick’s guilt,” I said. “Here inside the Tube, the Spiders are in charge. Thank you for your time—we’ll take it from here.”

“Like hell you will,” Kennrick said, standing up.

“Don’t try it, Kennrick,” I warned, motioning Emikai to step in a bit closer. “It’s two against one, and we’re both former cops.”

“This has gone far enough,” Worrbin said, his voice suddenly gone lofty and imperious with the weight of thousands of years of Filiaelian history and thousands of planets of Filiaelian geography. “This Human is associated with us, and through us with the Filiaelian Assembly. I forbid you to imprison him without incontestable proof of guilt.” He pointed to Emikai. “I further call upon this former enforcement officer to support my decision.”

“
Logra
Emikai is with me,” I reminded him.

“Not any more,” Emikai said softly.

I turned to look at him, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “We’re not in Filiaelian territory,
Logra
Emikai,” I reminded him carefully. “You’re not required to obey their orders.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Emikai said. He looked decidedly unhappy about it, but there was no wavering in his voice. “He is an
esantra
of the Filiaelian Assembly. No matter where in the galaxy we find ourselves, I have no choice but to uphold his legal decisions.” His eyes flicked to Worrbin, then back to me. “It is what I am,” he added.

And so it was. Retired or not, he’d been genetically engineered to be a cop, and the absence of his badge and gun didn’t change that.

I looked back at Kennrick. His arms were crossed over his chest, a righteously indignant expression plastered across his face, a hint of a smirk lurking behind his eyes. Was Worrbin’s interference the back door he’d been counting on? “You want proof,
Esantra
Worrbin?” I asked. “Fine.” I held out my hand toward Kennrick. “Your reader, please.”

Kennrick’s expression didn’t change, but the subtle smirk was suddenly gone. “Why?” he asked.

“Give it to me and I’ll show you,” I said.

“Not a chance,” he said flatly. “All my personal records are on it.”

“Consider this a subpoena,” I said. “Let’s start by showing them who Whitman Kennrick really is.”

Kennrick looked at the Fillies. “
Esantra
Worrbin?”

Worrbin looked at him, then at me, then back at Kennrick. “Give him your reader,” he ordered.

Kennrick’s lips puckered, but he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But let it be noted that this is under protest.” He reached his right hand into his jacket, got a grip on something, and started to pull his hand back out.

And without warning, he leaped in front of Bayta, his left fist snapping in a short punch from the hip into her solar plexus.

She gasped and bent forward, grabbing for her stomach. Kennrick kept moving, sidestepping around behind her, and I saw now that he was holding a pair of small cylinders in his right hand. As he turned back to face me he flipped one of the cylinders to his left hand, his hands tracing a quick pattern over and around Bayta’s head. As I belatedly started toward them, he jerked both hands back toward his face, Bayta’s head snapping backward in perfect synchronization.

And as her hands grabbed at her neck, I saw the glint of the thin wire wrapped around her throat.

“Careful, Compton,” Kennrick warned, his voice quiet and deadly, as I came to an abrupt halt. “That goes for the rest of you, too.”

“Do as he says,” I croaked out through a suddenly dry mouth, my heart pounding in my throat. Oh, no. God, no. “Take it easy, Kennrick.”

“Take it
off
easy, did you say?” Kennrick asked. He twitched the cylindrical handles of his garrote a little, making Bayta twitch in response.

“
Damn
it—” I broke off, clenching my teeth, fury and terror bubbling in my throat. Bayta’s face was tight and pale, a hint of pain in her eyes from Kennrick’s gut punch, her fingers trying uselessly to force their way between the wire and her throat. “Don’t hurt her.”

Kennrick smiled, a cold, evil thing. “Say please.”

I took a deep breath. “Please don’t hurt her.”

“Good,” he said, his voice brisk and almost businesslike. “Well, this is awkward, I must say. Any suggestions as to how we should proceed?”

“You want trouble, I’m available,” I said, holding my arms away from my sides. From the positioning of his hands, a detached part of my mind noted, the garrote wire had to cross itself behind Bayta’s head, meaning the loop completely encircled her neck instead of just pulling against the front and sides. It also meant that all Kennrick had to do was pull his hands apart to kill her. “Let her go, and you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Oh, I know,” he said brightly. “That handy little gadget of yours, the one you used on
Logra
Emikai two nights ago. Where is it?”

“I have it,” Bayta croaked.

“Where?”

“Here.” She reached for her right front pocket.

And gasped, her hand darting back up to her throat as Kennrick twitched the garrote again. “No, you just hold still,” he ordered. “I’ll get it.”

I felt a surge of adrenaline. In order to get into her pocket, he would either have to let go of one end of his garrote or else hold both handles in a single hand. Either way, it would mean a brief chance to get to him before he could use the wire against her. If I was quick, and lucky, I might be able to get to her in time.

But he was already ahead of me. Watching me closely, he slid the wire around Bayta’s throat, adjusting the positions of the handles, until the one in his right hand was back by his own throat. A quick twitch of his fingers, and he’d clipped the handle to his jacket collar. With his left hand still applying pressure against Bayta’s throat, he reached with his right around her hip and pulled the
kwi
from her pocket. “There we go,” he said, deftly wrapping it in place around his knuckles before unclipping the other garrote handle. “I think that officially leaves me holding all the cards.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“For now, to go back to my compartment,” he said. “The lady goes with me, of course.”

“Take me instead,” I offered again.

He smiled tightly. “I’d rather bed down with a Malayan pit viper,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. Not unless you force me to.”

I focused on Bayta’s face, searching desperately for inspiration. The last thing I wanted was to let him get Bayta behind locked doors, with access to whatever other tricks he might have smuggled aboard. But with the wire pressing against Bayta’s throat, there was nothing I could do without risking her life.

“Patience is a virtue,” Bayta murmured.

“She’s right,” Kennrick seconded. “Your move, Compton.”

I took another deep breath. “Go,” I said.

“We’ll talk later,” he promised. He glanced once over his shoulder, making sure the path was clear. Then, holding Bayta close, he started backing toward the front of the car. I watched them go, my hands curled into helpless fists at my sides, still trying to come up with something—anything—I could do.

They were halfway to the vestibule when
Krel
Vevri quietly detached himself from the wall where he’d been standing and began moving silently to intercept.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. Vevri’s eyes were shining with determination, a slight but unmistakable sag in the scales around his hawk beak. It was the Modhri who was currently in command of that body, coming to Bayta’s rescue.