"Y're leamin‘. Y're learnin'. Noo. Let's go visiting."
The agent, who was using the cover name of Hohne, was carefully combing gel into his hair when the door came down. He spun away from the mirror.
"Help! Police!"
"Button it!" the Bhor snarled. "I am the police!" He held out his ID shield.
"Who are you? Who's he? What do you want?"
Kilgour wasn't listening.
"Const'ble Paan," he said casually. "I‘ y'll pick up yon door, an' prop it up, wi‘ you on th' other side, Ah'll be wantin‘ a wee word wi' this fine, upstandin‘ young man."
The policeman followed orders.
"You don't have any right—" the man said.
‘Tsk," Alex said. "First mistake. Lass," he said to the technician, "he had his game right th' first time. Full a‘ prop'it outrage thae his privacy's been invaded. Which he should'a kept oop, an' shoutin‘ aboot how some clottin' human dinnae hae jurisdiction here i‘ th' cap'tal ae th‘ Bhor."
"I want to see some kind of warrant," the man said firmly.
"Thae's no warrant," Alex told him. "Y're nae under arrest. Thae's noo record ae police activ'ty i‘ this district't'night."
Hohne paled, then recovered.
"Aye," Alex said. "Thae ‘tis th' price ae spyin't. But thae's a price y‘ ken already, Sr. Hohne. Y're noo a baby spy, y're the senior Imperial agent i' th‘ cluster. 'Sperienced, an‘ thae. Although Ah mus' admit thae Ah noo c'nsider you lads frae Internal Security fit't' wipe th‘ arses ae th' lowliest Mantis bairn. But thae's m‘ prejudice. Noo. Let me ap'rise y' ae where y‘ stand. In th' middle of a deep, deep bog, my friend.
"Dinnae be talkin‘ an' sit y'self doon while I ‘splain. Oh. One wee thing thae'll pertain. Ah hae all y'r net rounded up an' in a holdin't pattern."
Hohne followed orders and sat down while Kilgour went on. The Empire had quite naturally always spied on its friends and allies as well as its enemies. As every sane power had done throughout history. With Internal Security having replaced Mercury/Mantis, and the Emperor's new fears, the spying grew more intense.
Sr. Hohne was, indeed, a senior operative for IS, which really wasn't that impressive, given that Internal Security was a newcomer to espionage, crippled by the Emperor's and Poyndex's decision that no one from Mercury Corps was capable, loyal, or honest.
Hohne had been in the Lupus Cluster for some time now, working under the cover of a native crafts buyer/exporter. The cover wasn't exactly original.
Bhor Counterintelligence knew, of course, that they were being spied on. Just as their own External Bureau spied on anyone it could. Most of the subagents Hohne had been running were Bhor or, if they were human, at least natives of the cluster. Only their Control was from outside—a wretched mistake in Kilgour's estimation. Field Control should also have been a Bhor, and whoever was running the net should stay safe in the Imperial embassy.
But the Emperor trusted no one, and neither did Poyndex. In the Lupus Cluster the Imperial embassy was staffed by numbwits and timeservers.
The field agents reported—regularly—to Hohne. Their broadcasts or drops had been monitored or picked up, copied, and then replaced for pickup for some time by Bhor CI. All the Bhor lacked was Hohne. Not that they had tried for him particularly hard—the Empire and the Bhor were still technically allies, although the cluster was under Imperial suspicion, just as anyone or anything who'd had the slightest contact with Sten was a potential pariah.
Kilgour had taken only a few hours at CI headquarters to work out a pattern for the Imperial field agents, and found they worked on a schedule. Reports were to be filed by X time/date, whether the spy had gotten any hard data or not. A response would also be provided—another no-no—at Y time/date at Z location, different from the drop box, so the still-unknown Imperial wasn't a total yutz.
Now to find Control. Kilgour worked on the assumption of like slave, like master. A broadband sweep found unknown transmissions being tightbeamed toward a known Imperial base "near" the Wolf Worlds, transmissions that were "trapped," logged, and then located.
Which was what led Kilgour to Hohne's apartment.
"So," Kilgour finished, "since zed a‘ y'r reports aboot ex-Imp sailors rootin' around th‘ Wolfie Worlds hae got throo, y'r master'll be gettin' concern‘!. He'll be wantin' a report, mos' rickety scratch, aye?"
"You want me to double."
"No. Ah wan‘ very little. A pint, a dram, a lass, a side ae smoked salmon no bigger'n y'r ego. You are goin't t' double, lad. Y‘ hae no choice. It dinnae matter whae reason y' hae f'r spyin't, f'r gold, f'r th‘ flag, or f'r y'r own reasons. Y're noo workin't f'r Alex Kilgour."
"There's no way," Hohne said, "that I'll help you cover Sten and your treason. I imagine you want me to sit here and file reports that this clottin‘ cluster is 152 percent Loyalist, that nobody's ever seen Sten out here, nobody's ever heard of him, and they'd spit on his grave if he did show up."
‘Twa points, mate:
"First, Ah dinnae wan‘ y'‘t' lie aboot th‘ cluster. Nae like that, at any rate. Nae. Tis dangerous oot here. Y'll be wantin' more agents. Agents by th‘ squad, by th' pl'toon, by th‘ bleedin' clan i‘ y' can score ‘em.
"Second, y'll be helpin‘ me. Ah hae nae a doubtin' shadow a‘ thae, an y' should no either. An‘ Ah'm sure it'll noo take but hours til y' ken th‘ wisdom ae my words, an' reck wha‘ a fine laird Ah am.
"Aye? Ah. Y‘ still dinnae believe me.
"Mister Paen, i‘ y'd step in? Y' c'n take th‘ lad wi' you. Ah'll be wantin‘ further words wi' him a‘ another time." Not gently, Sr. Hohne, Internal Security, was removed.
"Will he come around," Marl asked.
"Oh aye," Alex said, as their civilian gravsled took them back to where Kilgour and his team were quartered. "He'll sit i‘ th' wee dungeon, contemplatin‘ his sins, which are many, an' his future, which i‘ bleak, an' he'll come aroun‘. Spies bein't th' failed bein's they are, they always do. T‘ make sure, th' Bhor'll play some awful tapes ae pris'ners under inter'gation, screamin‘ ae they're flayed alive an' forced't‘ listen't' political speeches.
"Ah'm quite th‘ screamer, gie'en good recordin' techniques an‘ a wee throat spray. Y' see, y're learnin‘, Marl. F'r openers, y' hae learned th‘ virtues ae patience. T' elaborate, Ah'll noo hae a parable. Are y‘ religious, lass?"
"Nossir. But my creche was."
"Then th‘ fable be e'en closer't' y'r heart. Seems thae was a man. Nae a puir man, nae a laird. But he's livin't i‘ a wee house, an' he dinnae like it, but he canna fin‘ th' money frae a bigger one.
"So he hears aboot a wise man. Ver‘, ver' wise, he is. An he determines't‘ consult thae' wise man.
"Bein't wise, a‘ course it's a't'rble journey't‘ find him. But eventually our hero climbs't' th‘ top ae th' mountain where th‘ magi hangi't his beanie, an' he pleads, ‘Great One, what c'n Ah do? M' house i‘ wee an' Ah canna stand it.‘
"Th‘ wise man thinks, an' asks, ‘Hae y' a coo?‘
" ‘A coo?'
" ‘Aye, a coo."
" ‘Aye, Ah hae a braw Hereford.'
" ‘Move it i' y'r house.‘
"An‘ th' wise man refus't‘t' say more, i‘ spite ae th' man's pleadin't an‘ cryin't. So th' man goes back home, an‘ aye, it's e'en more a't'rble trek.
"An‘ he's thinkit, an wonderin't, but he knows th' wise man's truly wise, an‘ so he moves his coo in't' sleep wi‘ him. An' his wee house is e'en wee-er.
"An‘ he canna stand it. So he goes back,'t'rble journey thae it is, all th‘ way't' th‘ wise man, an' again asks th‘ question.