“What now?” she said under her breath, and smiled blankly at her brother.
“We catch a jitney at the end of the plaza,” Galler answered, and Heikki frowned.
“Not here—?” she began, and realized her mistake almost as soon as she had spoken.
“Traffic restricted,” Galler answered. “They’re worried about crime, want to cut off the escape routes.” He took her arm in what seemed to be a polite gesture. The grip bit hard, and Heikki suppressed a curse. “Don’t look back.”
Heikki did as she was told, her mouth setting briefly into an ugly grimace. Obeying the pressure on her arm, she slowed before a display of jewelry, cage-coronet and bracelets and heavy collar, set with flawed PDE crystals. Even in the imperfect reproduction of the window, the crystals flared blue and white, strikingly beautiful against the black metal mesh that formed both backing and setting.
“The mesh is an energy damper—lavanite, I think,” Galler said. “Otherwise there’d be a danger of random discharge injuring the owner or his or her companions.”
I do know that, Heikki thought, irritated, and then realized that they were within earshot of another couple. She smiled sweetly and said, “One wouldn’t want that, of course. Just think of the insurance.”
Galler’s lips twitched—as much in surprise, Heikki thought, as in amusement—but he answered with commendable steadiness, “No, the liability would be high.”
The stranger couple had moved away. Heikki kept her smile as she said, “What’s going on, Galler?”
“Securitrons,” her brother answered tightly. “Behind us, coming up the street.” He turned away from the window, his hand still linked lightly, urgently through her elbow, drawing her on up the street. Behind them, Heikki could hear exclamations and the shrill peep of a whistle, and fought down the urge to run.
“What in the world—?” a strange voice exclaimed, quite close by, and Galler drew Heikki into the relative shelter of a shop entrance.
“Robbery?” he called over his shoulder, and a moment later they were joined by a well-dressed man whose face, close up, was a little too hard for his fine suit. A carrycase was slung over one shoulder, apparently idly, but then Heikki saw his knuckles go white on the strap. A jewel courier, she guessed, and made herself look anywhere except at the case. On the street, pedestrians scattered to either side of the main travelway, tourists’ voices rising in immodest alarm as they tried to crowd against the shop windows and entrances. The merchants had locked their doors at the first hint of trouble. Heikki could see a frightened face staring through a peephole almost level with her shoulder. Then the securitrons swept by, a dozen of them riding two-man hoverfans, a dozen more on foot. Heikki stared in genuine astonishment—all this for me? or for him, she added silently, certainly, and could not help glancing at Galler. On her other side, the jewel courier whispered something that might have been a curse.
“What is the name of—?” someone else began, and remembered belatedly where she was.
And then the procession had swept past out of sight, whistles shrilling again to clear the intersection. Heikki allowed herself a soundless sigh of relief, and looked at Galler, who silenced her with a pressure of his hand. All around them, voices rose in worried speculation, here and there a voice demanding petulantly or in genuine fear to be taken home at once. Only she and Galler and the courier were silent, and she saw the courier eyeing them sidelong, the hard eyes narrowing.
She pitched her voice high, aiming for the fashionable squeal she found intolerable. “What could that have been about?” she cried. Galler gave her an irritated look, but the jewel courier looked away, his suspicion visibly easing. “I think we should leave, right now.”
The look of annoyance faded, and Galler managed what might have been a nod of approval. “Of course, at once.”
Most of the other pedestrians seemed to have had the same idea. It was easy to lose themselves among the crowd streaming toward the end of the street, but once they had reached the round plaza where the jitneys were swarming, Galler turned left again, doubling back toward Tremoth’s offices.
“Are you crazy?” Heikki asked under her breath, and Galler darted an annoyed glance at her.
“Not entirely. We’re more likely to pick up a jitney here, before they get to this mob.”
There was logic to that, Heikki admitted silently, and made no further protest, though she sighed with relief when they turned station-north again, back toward the center of the Exchange Point. As Galler had predicted, the streets were less crowded, and jitneys streamed past them, summoned by the central computer to the scene of the sudden demand. Galler did not signal one until they were well away from the jewelers’ district, and Heikki had to approve the tactic. There was no sense in allowing themselves to be connected in any way to the disturbance they had just left.
At last, however, Galler lifted his hand as a jitney turned down the street toward them, saying in the same moment, “I hope you have some cash slips?”
“Typical,” Heikki said, bitterly. “Yes, some.” And I’ll be damned if I tell you how much I’m carrying, she added silently.
“Well, I hope it’s enough,” Galler answered, and opened the jitney’s passenger compartment.
“Probably,” Heikki said, with equally false good humor, and the jitney said, “Destination, please?”
Galler’s face stilled, all trace of banter vanishing. “Pod Twenty-One, level six, fourth court. The traffic circle there,” he added, forestalling the next question.
“Acknowledged,” the jitney answered, and slid smoothly away from the curb.
“Where—?” Heikki began, and bit back the rest of her question.
Galler, however, did not seem disturbed, but leaned back against the seat cushions. “Home. Or what passes for home these days.”
Was that wise? Heikki wondered, but could not bring herself to question her brother further. Still, it wasn’t like Galler to be less than devious.
She had her answer quickly enough. They changed jitneys three times before Galler finally seemed satisfied, and directed the last machine to take them to the Samuru Court in Pod Fourteen. This was on one of the lower levels, where the semi-transient populations, the people who worked in transport or trade rather than in the prestigious sedentary jobs, tended to live. Heikki glanced surreptitiously at her lens, and saw that the area was shaded pale green, a mix of light commerce and housing.
The jitney deposited them on the edge of the Court, and Galler led them slowly around almost the full circle, watching their reflection in the shop displays to see if anyone was following them. At last he nodded to himself, and cut directly across the Court, dodging the anemic fountain. He was headed for side street eighty-two, Heikki thought, but then he changed direction as abruptly as before, and ducked into an ungated door between two shops. She was caught wrong-footed, stumbled and swore, and Galler hissed at her to be quiet.
They were in what seemed to be a machinists’ service alley, a dark cul-de-sac between the buildings, with hatches in the walls to either side that probably concealed the shops’ utility panels. Heikki frowned, and Galler said, to the apparently blank wall at the end of the alley, “Apartment Five. And one guest.”