''You are welcome. I will endeavor to do similar searches in the future.''
Kris leaned back for a moment and stared at the ceiling. Once was chance. Twice was coincidence …maybe. Three times had to be enemy action. Question was, who was the enemy? Kris really didn't want to think a nice young guy like Hank already had an enemies list. Of course, Kris considered herself a nice young gal, and she sure was on someone's enemy list.
''Kris,'' Nelly said tentatively.
''Yes.''
''Are you aware a five hundred thousand dollar, Wardhaven, donation has been made to the Edris Fund?''
''No, Nelly, I've been leaving the money handling to you. Who made the donation?''
''It is anonymous, but since it came in, I have been backtracking the money transfer. It is very likely that it came from Hank Peterwald.''
''Before or after his ship broke orbit?''
''I cannot be sure, but it appears afterward.''
Kris mulled that over. Hank would not be putting money in the bank account of a dead gal. Not likely. This planet was a major potential nexus for trade. Per Nelly's financial report, Wardhaven financed half of Olympia's start-up costs, the rest spread around liberally. How things were now that someone was stealing IDs and selling property off planet, Kris would check on later. But if Hank knew anything about what his papa was up to, he would not be giving Kris money to make things better.
Kris was surprised at how much better she felt, deciding that Hank was not out to kill her. But if Papa Peterwald wanted Olympia's jump points, just how far would he go? What more should she do before she left?
The rain pounded against the window of her new office.
The windowsill showed caked dirt along with the streams of water running down it. Right, there was volcanic ash in the rain. What else? ''Nelly, has anyone visited the volcano that blew up and caused this mess?''
''No.''
Then, of course, why visit the volcano when it was coming to you? ''Has anyone done an analysis on the ash?''
''There is no report in the public record of such a study.''
Kris spotted an empty can next to the coffeemaker. Maybe she was crazy, but maybe it was time to be a bit paranoid. Outside, coffee can in hand, she studied the flow of water. There was a ditch behind her building; rusted pipes from the roof tried to keep up with the rain, dumping what fell into the ditch before the weight of the rain collapsed the roof of the warehouse. Jeb came up as Kris was staring into the ditch's muddy waters.
''Can I help you, ma'am?''
''How much volcanic ash was in the early rains?''
''Quite a bit.''
''Think some of that original ash might be down in that ditch?''
''Wouldn't be surprised if some was. You want a souvenir?''
''Ought to have something. Might have it made into a vase or ceramic pretty. You know.''
Jeb studied her for a moment, then got the attention of a youngster, no more than twelve. ''Lady here wants some of the ash from our volcano. You mind getting a bit muddy?''
The kid looked like he'd been asked if he wanted to go to heaven. In no time he was up to his knees in water, using the coffee can to collect from the lowest part of the culvert.
''This what you want, ma'am?'' he said, presenting Kris with a brimming can of mud surely as proud as any suitor handing a diamond ring to his girl.
''Certainly is,'' Kris said, slipping the top back on the can. From her pocket, she pulled a dollar coin. ''For you, thanks.''
''My mum would never let me take it,'' the boy said, bobbing his head and not touching the money. ''You been feeding us. She'd wallop me if I took it.''
Kris pulled out a second coin. ''This is for your mother for raising such a good boy. Now take both of them, and run along.''
The kid did not look convinced, but a nod from Jeb did the trick. He grabbed both coins and ran for the gate, dripping muddy water all the way. ''The least I could do for messing up his clothes,'' Kris chuckled.
''And for humoring a woman that's got to be as crazy as any two coots on this waterlogged planet,'' Jeb said.
Kris looked down at the coffee can in her hand, wiped some of the mud from it, and turned back to her office. ''We'll see who's crazy,'' she muttered.
Two evenings later, Kris followed Colonel Hancock into the officers' mess of the Fourth Highland Battalion, LornaDo Planetary Guard. Their invitation was as much due to what Kris and Tom had done for the battalion in the last forty-eight hours as for who Kris was. With the help of Kris's friends among the local craftsmen, a run-down and abandoned restaurant and lounge was now a spick-and-span officers' mess and club in the full and traditional meaning of the word. Overstuffed chairs were scattered around the room in tasteful conversational groupings. The walls now displayed photographs of past battalion commanders and groups of officers as well as the battalion's victorious soccer teams. One drop ship had actually delivered carefully packaged oil paintings of several battle scenes from the battalion's honor roll. The place was heated nicely, carpeted, and smelling of new paint, and Kris could hardly believe it was the abandoned dump they'd started with. Or that such a place could exist in the mildew and swamp that Olympia had become. The books Kris read as a kid told of how a bit of England had been transplanted to India. She'd wondered how that could be. Wardhaven was no Earth and proud of it. Now she saw how…and why…a battalion might transplant LornaDo, or maybe England, to Olympia.
A new wall pierced by double French doors set off the club from the dining area and the bar. Still, as Colonel Halverson met Colonel Hancock, a young private in full dress blues and kilt hovered at his commander's elbow to take orders.
Commander Owing, Hancock's XO, was already in a corner, deep in an overstuffed chair with a scotch and immersed in a discussion with the battalion's medical and supply officers of the best single malt in human space. Lieutenant Pearson had passed on the offer with a sniff. Kris had heard her exclaim loudly to the duty section outside the Colonel's office about drunken debauchers. The Colonel's hearing must be going bad; though at Kris's elbow, he didn't seem to hear a word. Both the other ensigns drew the duty, leaving Kris, Tommy, the Colonel, and all the officers of the Highland battalion free to drink and/or debauch, so long as they dressed properly for the occasion.
The Marine Colonel and his Navy pair apparently were the last to arrive. Kris's white choker and pants had been an interesting fashion statement at the recognition reception on Wardhaven against all the bustiers and petticoats; here she was one of the few not showing off knees. But Colonel Halverson made sure that his visiting Marine Colonel in his dress blue and reds and the navy types in their whites were made right at home.
''What will you have?'' the Colonel said, greeting them jovially, then turning to the private at his elbow. ''Pass the word to all servers: these people's money is not good in the mess tonight. Yon woman's great-grandfather went up Black Mountain with the battalion. He was a Marine, but for someone ashamed of his knees, a damn good fighting man.''
''Yes, sir,'' the boy said, looking at Kris as if she might have just stepped down from Mount Olympus.
''And pity be if their glasses go dry.''
''Yes, sir. What are you drinking, ma'am?''
Kris had gotten comfortable ordering nonalcoholic drinks over the last ten years, but clearly, a soda would put her out of step with these men and women. The Colonel's scotch hadn't dragged her into a bottle. Grampa Trouble might be right. Maybe she wasn't an alki. With a swallow and a smile, Kris said, ''A seltzer with a twist of lime, please.''
Tom ordered Irish whiskey, neat; Colonel Hancock ordered what Colonel Halverson was drinking, and the boy marched for the other room. The new Colonel turned to the old.
''You said she had guts in a fight. Now I see she can be just as stalwart in the mess.'' The Highland Colonel turned back to Kris. ''By the by, young woman, you'll not be the only one walking that line tonight. There's one or two others in the mess that know that beastie. Now, Colonel, I've a mind to show you a few things.'' And with that, the two senior officers left Kris and Tommy standing in the middle of the club.