"Jersisallam."
"I conspired with pirates to steal from him. You should already know that."
"Come on, you know we don't care about that. We're more interested in why you are here, watched around the clock."
"I suppose he holds grudges."
"To the extent of trying to have you killed twice? It's not as if he even lost much that time."
"Some people aren't very forgiving."
"Or don't like people on the loose who know things someone doesn't want known," Williams pointed out. "You were on one of his ships. It sometimes made diversions to somewhere when travelling from Esdi. Where?"
"Yeah, right," Marchero snorted. "You saying that because it was late? That ship was a badly-maintained flying bucket. The cargo loaders on Esdi are are clumsy and lazy, and often damaged things in the process. The damage claims against them are probably on file somewhere. Damaged ship equals late ship. OK?"
"Not really. Low security still beckons," Williams said.
"Oh, fine, I'm a witchhunt victim. Drowned to prove I'm innocent, just because your guesswork falls short of reality. Enough!" She stood up and threw her chair back.
"Sit down!" Jalsa barked at her.
"Why? I've lost all incentive to do a thing you say. You're going to get me killed anyway."
Jalsa held up his hand as if signalling Marchero to wait. "You've only heard one side of our offer so far," he said in a carefully controlled voice, not very successfully concealing impatience and anger. "The other side is out of prison altogether. With a changed identity. In any part of the galaxy you care to name."
Marchero did not sit back down, but went and stood leaning against the corner of the room. "You're still assuming that I know whatever it is you're after."
"True. But I think it's quite safe to assume that the ship was late for a better reason than carelessness on behalf of some drunken Groigans or unreliable robots. Unless Jersisallam was the type to become really upset with late ships."
She stood straight now, and although she didn't say anything her expression was clear.
"Everyone who had worked on any of these suspiciously late craft is dead. Apart from you. Stretching coincidence just a little, isn't it?" Williams informed her.
Marchero half staggered back to the table. She pulled the chair back up and sat down, her head bowed and almost resting on her hands. "Not coincidence, no," she almost whispered.
"So why, then?" asked Jalsa.
Marchero looked up. "For a reason that I won't tell to you."
"What? Was our threat lost on you?" Williams exclaimed. "And your only chance to get away? Even if you stay here for now they'll get you as soon as you come out of prison."
"They might. If I'm stuck in low security they might. But if I were to give you one tiny clue as to who, what or where then might becomes definite. I'm not keen on joining my friends in death."
"Friends? Who you betrayed to a bunch of pirates for a little money?" Williams said scornfully.
"Those weren't friends. I only knew the captain of the Anaconda, and he was a thorough bastard. There were enough escape pods for most of them to get away, anyway."
"I'm sure that must have been a great relief to whatever conscience you have," Williams retorted. "But it's irrelevant now. And we've offered you a chance."
"Not a good one," Marchero said wearily. "You would have to be pretty impressive to convince me that you could hide me well enough. Besides, and this is almost more than I dare say, it's no good if they come along and blow this place up, and me with it, while I'm waiting to leave with my new ID. And yes, I think they are capable of doing that."
"Then you'll come with us," said Jalsa.
Williams stared at him in astonishment. "That's crazy! She's already demonstrated that she's a greedy opportunist with no respect for life. That's why she's here!"
"Those pirates?" Marchero intervened. "That was personal, not greed. Part of the bargain was that only the captain's pod would be shot down. Nobody else would have been killed. Except from bad luck." Marchero shook her head. "Coming with you would be little better than staying. Police, Navy, whoever you are, I can't trust you."
"Nor me you," Williams declared. "Seems like the safest thing to do would be to stick you in a shuttle with no drive and announce your location."
"Then we're stuck, Angus. Have you any better ideas?" Jalsa asked.
"No," Williams admitted.
"Then she comes."
"If she can be persuaded to, and if she's of any use. We're not certain of that yet."
"Are you?" Jalsa demanded of her.
"I'm wanted dead for what I know. Is that enough for you? Is it enough for me to help you?"
Williams leant over to Marchero. "Perhaps you don't trust us. But I think that our success is the only chance you'll have of living. Even if you think it's a slim one, can you afford to miss it?"
She sat silently for a while. "No, I don't suppose I can. Very well, I'll come with you."
Williams rapped on the door. It was opened by the security officer outside. As he moved to enter the room Williams held out his arm to stop him. "Leave her there for a while, please."
Jalsa continued, "Call the warden for us, too. Ask him to meet us here."
The prison warden arrived fifteen tedious minutes later. "We need a word in private, please," Jalsa asked him.
"In here," the warden said, showing them to another nearby room. This space was set out in the same way as the interview room Marchero was currently sitting in. The warden flicked open a panel in the wall and spent a few seconds pressing buttons and pushing cards into various slots. "I've disabled the mikes, what did you want?"
Jalsa told him. "We want to take Marchero with us." The warden looked surprised, but didn't say anything. "Do you have any problems with that?"
"I'm not happy with the idea, of course. I acknowledge your authority from the Co-operative, but I'll need to have some idea why before I authorise this."
"You'll have to accept that she's a necessary part of our investigation," said Jalsa.
"What investigation?" the warden asked bluntly.
"I'm afraid I can't say."
The prison official was starting to look understandably suspicious. "Can I have this request confirmed in writing?"
"Very well. Although it would be much more preferable if you were to avoid making any fuss about this. Marchero will be at risk when she leaves here. Don't make that risk any greater," said Williams.
"I'll escort you back to the landing pad personally, then. There are routes where you won't be seen with your passenger, although it won't be very long before word gets around in here that she's gone."
The warden produced a datapad to record the request, and Jalsa and Williams signed it with their IDs. When they were back in the corridor he spoke briefly one of the guards, who gave him his rifle and left with his companions. They re-entered the interview room to find Marchero sitting on the edge of the table staring into space in a manner similar to that when they had first seen her. Minute differences in her posture and face gave a somewhat different impression than her couldn't-care-less attitude of earlier, though.
"On your feet," the warden ordered. He gestured with the rifle. They followed Marchero out of the room and back to the tram station. The route back to the reception area took longer than it had on the way here, but passed through no communal areas, during which Williams dropped several hints about his opinions on the receptionist's behaviour. The warden dismissed the now nervous-looking receptionist and personally cleared the three for exit. There was a further delay whilst the shuttle returned to the landing pad, but eventually they were back aboard ship.
Williams escorted Marchero to a secure room aboard the ship, but Jalsa headed off towards the bridge. "Call in the escort craft," he instructed the pilot. "Have them stand a hundred kilometres outside scanner range. Send the order via upsilon code." The pilot spoke the order to the computer and keyed it to transmit encoded on top of one of the standard navigation frequencies. This took a while as the message was sent out heavily encrypted and in tiny chunks at seemingly random intervals.