Slade frowned. “The wrecked latac. Were there any signs, for example, that it had been hit by a seeker?”
Heikki suppressed a surge of malicious pleasure, and answered, “I really couldn’t say, Ser Slade. After all, we only made the one visual examination, and that under less than ideal conditions. If we’d been able to finish the analysis, of course…. But I’m sure your own technicians will have the answers for you in a week or two.”
“What’s your guess, as a professional?” Slade’s voice was untroubled, not in the least annoyed by her jibe, and Heikki hesitated, newly wary.
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said, after a moment. “Certainly, if I wanted to bring down a latac, a seeker’s cheap and relatively efficient—the bigger powerplant makes a latac a lot better target than a douplewing’s, for one thing. And there was nothing at the wreck site that would suggest otherwise. But it could also have been an on-board explosive, or even engine sabotage.” Slade opened his mouth to say more, and Heikki spread her hands. “I’m sorry, Ser, I simply can’t give you a better guess.”
Slade sighed. “Fair enough, Dam’ Heikki. As you say, our people will bring in their assessment soon enough.” He paused, staring out the window at the distant crystal shed. Heikki watched him uneasily, not quite believing in his sudden abstraction.
“I suppose,” he said, after a long moment, “this could be some—purely personal matter of the pilot’s.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Heikki said in spite of herself, and instantly wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
Slade looked curiously at her. “Why do you say that, Dam’ Heikki?”
Because nobody except a corporate stooge settles a private argument with a missile, Heikki thought. She said, slowly, not quite sure why she was playing for time, “Certainly he never said or did anything that would lead me to believe he had that sort of enemy.”
“But not that he had no enemies?” Slade nodded, almost approvingly.
That wasn’t what I meant, Heikki thought, and you know it. But I can see it would be very convenient for you to explain it that way, at least until you can figure out what happened to your latac. And right now, I don’t see any reason not to give you what you want. She said, “All I know about Jan is his professional reputation—which is excellent. I don’t know anything about his private life.”
“So you would not rule that out? As an explanation, I mean.”
“I couldn’t, no,” Heikki answered. She was quite certain that Slade had noticed the changed verb, but the troubleshooter gave no overt sign of it.
“Mm.” Slade turned away again, back toward the window. The light was fading as the sun rose into a thin haze of cloud, the shed roof no longer flaming against the dull green of the distant hill. “There is one other question, which I must apologize in advance for asking. Is there any possibility that this account is a fabrication, that Ser Sebasten-Januarias is using this to cover up, say, navigational or general error on his part?”
That’s going a little too far, Heikki thought. I’m willing to go along with you if you want to declare there’s no connection with the latac crash—no harm to me either way—but I’m not about to see the kid’s reputation destroyed. “No possibility at all. He’s too good to have to lie like that.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Slade said. He did not sound particularly relieved, merely thoughtful, and Heikki hid a frown of her own. I have a nasty feeling, she thought, that I’ve just defined all too precisely just how far I’m willing to compromise. It was not a pleasant thought.
“Well, it was a possibility that had to be mentioned,” Slade said, with sudden affability. “I’m glad you think it can be discounted. And since you don’t think this is necessarily connected with our crash….” He let his voice trail off. When Heikki did not respond to the invitation, he smiled and continued, “I don’t think we need be concerned unless further evidence turns up.”
It was virtually an order, and Heikki could not quite hide her frown. “As you say,” she answered, but knew the other heard the insincerity in her voice.
Slade touched the shadowscreen that lay discarded on his desk, and a few moments later Neilenn tapped discreetly at the door.
“Ser Slade?”
“Would you see Dam’ Heikki back to her ‘cat, please, Jens?” Slade smiled. “Thank you for being willing to see me on such short notice, Dam’ Heikki.”
Despite her best intentions, Heikki choked on the formula of polite response. “Not at all,” she managed at last, and saw Slade’s smile waver. It was only for a fraction of a second, but she winced inwardly. Slade had never been less than an enemy, of that she felt sure, but now she had pushed him into something more than mere passive opposition. Damn all ‘pointers, she thought, momentarily all Iadaran, and then common sense reasserted herself. She had obliquely insulted him, true, but she had also obliquely agreed to back him in his desire to keep the planetary police from connecting the attack on Sebasten-Januarias with the downed latac. Even if she’d annoyed him, he needed her for that—and that should be enough to hold him, she thought, at least until we can get back to the Loop. Still, she was frowning as she followed Neilenn back to his runabout, and the sense of unease did not leave her as she restarted the fastcat and eased it slowly out of the compound, moving against the stream of traffic arriving for the day shifts.
Her uneasiness did not abate as she brought the ‘cat into the underground workbay. There was no point in it, she knew—she could not change what she had already done—but she could not help wishing she knew more about what had happened, and why Slade cared. Well, maybe Sten’s picked up something, she thought, and levered herself up out of the ‘cat. The underground level was relatively crowded, she saw with some relief, perhaps half a dozen vehicles of various types drawn into the bays, each one attended by a driver or two in loose-fitting coveralls badged with company logos at throat and shoulder. One or two looked up as she made her way toward the connecting archway, but no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to her arrival. As she reached the arch itself, however, she was joined by a stocky, good-looking woman whose dark-blue coveralls bore a silver crescent at the neck. Heikki gave her a polite smile, and was remotely pleased when the woman smiled back.
“Dam’ Heikki?”
Heikki hesitated, and knew by the look in the other woman’s eyes that it was too late to deny the identification. “That’s right,” she said, and wished she were carrying the blaster that was locked in her personal safe. Her hand crept toward the slit of her shift, and the knife sheathed at her thigh.
“Jan asked me to give you this.” The woman lifted her arm fractionally, moving from the elbow, palm turned toward the floor. Heikki held out her own hand, and felt a thin packet, about the size of a minidisk but lighter, slip into her own palm.
“Thanks,” Heikki began, but the other woman had already lengthened her step, was striding away toward the lobby. Heikki’s eyebrows rose, but she suppressed the temptation to examine whatever it was she had been given, slipping it instead into the inner pocket of her belt. By the time she reached the lobby, the other woman had vanished. Heikki sighed, and made her way back to the suite,
Djuro was gone, as she had more than half expected he would be, only a light flashing on the message cube in the center of the main room. Heikki picked up the remote she had left by the door, and triggered the message, sighing to herself.