“I suspect you wouldn’t answer if I called.”
“Oh, you know how it is,” I said. “I get all flustered when a handsome boy calls. Anyway, nice talking to you.”
I walked on. I expected him to grab my arm or something, but he just kept pace beside me.
“You know why I’m here, right?”
“No idea,” I said. “Is it something Canadian? Do you need to apologize for shit that isn’t your fault? Or hold a door open for someone twenty meters away?”
“I assume you heard about the Sanchez harvesters?”
“You mean that top news story on every local website? Yeah, I heard about it.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Did you do it?”
I put on my best shocked expression. “Why would I do something like that?”
“That was going to be my follow-up question,” he said.
“Has someone accused me?”
He shook his head. “No, but I pay attention to what’s going on in my city. You have an EVA suit and you’re a criminal. Seemed like a good place to start my investigation.”
“I was in my coffin all night,” I said. “Check my Gizmo activity if you don’t believe me. I hereby give you permission to check that out—just to save you the trouble of getting Administrator Ngugi to authorize it.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “I’ve also had a request from Bob Lewis of the EVA Guild. He wants last night’s location info for everyone who owns an EVA suit. Do you give permission for me to give him your data?”
“Yes. Go ahead. That should put things to rest.”
“Maybe for Bob,” he said. “But I’m something of a suspicious soul. Just because your Gizmo was in your coffin all night, that doesn’t mean you were. Have you got any witnesses?”
“No. Contrary to popular belief, I usually sleep alone.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sanchez Aluminum is angry. The EVA Guild is upset too.”
“Not my problem.” I rounded a corner without warning to throw him off, but he kept up. He must have known I was going to do that.
Dick.
“Tell you what”—he pulled out his Gizmo—“I’ll pay you one hundred slugs to tell me the truth.”
“Whu… huh?” I stopped walking.
He typed on his Gizmo. “One hundred slugs. Direct transfer from my personal account to yours.”
My Gizmo beeped. I pulled it out of my pocket:
ACCOUNT TRANSFER FROM RUDY DUBOIS: 100ğ. ACCEPT?
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Paying for the truth. Let’s have it.”
I declined the transaction. “This is weird, Rudy. I already told you the truth.”
“Don’t you want a hundred slugs? If you’re already telling me the truth, just take the money and tell me again.”
“Go away, Rudy.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Yeah. I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“I’ve known you since you were a little delinquent. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re just like your father. You have his business ethics.”
“So?” I pouted and looked away.
“You’ll lie all day if we’re just talking. But if I pay for the truth, that makes it a business deal. And a Bashara never reneges on a deal.”
I ran out of smartassed things to say. It’s rare, but it happens once in a while.
He pointed to Hibby. “That HIB would be a great way to open an airlock without authorization.”
“I suppose.”
“You’d have to get it outside first.”
“I suppose.”
“You could probably sneak it out with a tourist EVA.”
“You getting at something, Rudy?”
He tapped on his Gizmo. “There are no surveillance cameras on airlocks. We’re not a police state. But there is a security camera in the Visitors Center gift shop.”
He turned the screen to face me. There I was, walking through the gift shop in my disguise. He paused the playback. “According to the transaction she made to get on the train, her name is Nuha Nejem. Strange thing is, her Gizmo is offline now. She’s about your height, build, and skin color, wouldn’t you say?”
I leaned in to look at the screen. “You know there’s more than one short Arab woman on the moon, right? Besides, she’s wearing a niqab. Have you ever seen me in traditional clothes? I’m not what you’d call a devout Muslim.”
“Neither is she.” He swiped the screen a few times. “The train has a security camera too.”
Now his Gizmo showed video from the train. The nice French guy stood up and offered me his seat. I bowed to him and sat down.
“Chivalry isn’t dead,” I said. “Good to know.”
“Muslims don’t bow to people,” Rudy said. “Even Muhammad didn’t let anyone bow to him. They bow to Allah and no one else. Ever.”
Shit. I really should have known that. Maybe I should have paid attention when I was young—before Dad gave up on bringing me into the faith.
“Huh,” I said. “Don’t know what to tell ya.”
Rudy leaned against the wall. “I’ve got you this time, Jazz. This isn’t some minor smuggling. It’s a hundred million slugs’ worth of property damage. You’re going down.”
I shook a little. Not from fear. From rage. Didn’t that asshole have better things to do than micromanage my life?! Leave me the fuck alone!
I don’t think I hid it very well.
“What’s the matter? No comeback?” he said. “You didn’t do this for fun. This has ‘work-for-hire’ written all over it. Tell me who hired you, and I’ll put in a good word with the administrator. It’ll keep you from getting deported.”
I kept my mouth a thin line.
“Come on, Jazz. Just tell me it was Trond Landvik and we can all move on with life.”
I tried not to react, but I failed. How the hell did he know that?
He read my expression. “He’s been selling Earthside holdings to amass a huge slug balance. He must be planning to buy something big in Artemis. Sanchez Aluminum, I’m guessing.”
He must have wanted Trond pretty bad. He was willing to pass up an opportunity to take me down once and for all. But still… rolling on Trond? Not my style. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He put the Gizmo back in his pocket. “Why do you have a HIB?”
“I’m delivering it. I’m a porter. Delivering shit’s my whole job.”
“Who sent it? And who is it going to?”
“Can’t tell you,” I said. “Discretion about deliveries is guaranteed. I have a reputation to uphold.”
He stared me down for a moment, but I didn’t break my expression.
He frowned, then stepped back. “Fine. But this isn’t going away. Powerful people are very angry.”
“Then they’re angry at someone else. I didn’t do anything.”
Then, to my utter surprise, he turned and walked away. “You’ll be in over your head soon. When that happens, give me a call.”
“Wha—” I began. But then I clammed up. If he wasn’t taking me in, I sure as hell didn’t want to break the spell.
This didn’t make sense. Rudy had been after me for years. This was pretty damned solid evidence. Enough to convince the administrator, I was sure. She’d chuck my reprobate ass down to Earth without a second thought.
If he really wanted Trond, why not arrest me? If I was facing deportation, I’d be way more likely to rat out Trond, right?
What the hell?
I needed a drink. I stopped off at Hartnell’s, sat in my usual seat, and signaled Billy. Time to drown my misery in alcohol and testosterone. I’d have a few cheap beers, throw on something sexy, head to an Aldrin nightclub, and go home with a good-looking guy. Hey, I could even give Svoboda’s condom a trial run. Why not?