I frowned. “You’ve lost me.”
“Really,” Prif Klas said, his voice cold. “You hadn’t noticed that those ice formations are situated directly over the caverns where the stolen submarine is hidden? Or that the ice there is barely thirty meters thick, easily shattered by a series of properly shaped thermistack charges?”
“No, I hadn’t noticed any of those things,” I said evenly. Seen from their point of view, there was definitely a certain logic to it.
Except for the possibly inconvenient fact that the sub was nowhere near where they thought it was. What was Fayr up to, anyway?
“Really,” Prif Klas bit out again. “Is it also pure coincidence that you just happened to be out on the surface, in a place where you had no business being, at the precise time all this was happening?”
And with that, it finally clicked. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you suggesting I was Fayr’s diversion?”
“Why not?” Prif Klas demanded. “Particularly since you performed the same task yesterday, and in the same place, when the commandos concealed the disruptor aboard the bus. Why not use a successful feint twice?”
“Except for why anyone should have been distracted by my movements in the first place,” I countered stiffly “What did I do to justify you putting me under surveillance?”
“It’s nothing specific, Frank,” Applegate spoke up. “But you have to admit there’s been a whole pattern of strange things that have happened around you since you came aboard the Quadrail at Terra.” He gestured toward Mahf’s reader. “And now we hear that you actually rubbed shoulders with this Fayr character. What should we think?”
“One: There wasn’t any rubbing of shoulders,” I said, lifting up my bound hands and ticking off fingers. “I saw him in the bar, period. Two: Bayta and I wouldn’t even be on Modhra if JhanKla hadn’t suggested we come here. You want to blame somebody, blame him. Three: If you’ve got one of Fayr’s people in custody, why aren’t you interrogating him instead of me?”
Mahf looked over at the Halkan major scowling at me from beside Bayta. “Do you care to respond?” he invited.
The major scowled a little harder. “He is no longer in custody,” he said, his tone a swirling mix of anger and embarrassment. “He was brought to the lodge, but escaped his guards. We’re searching for him.”
“Really,” I said, swallowing a three-course meal’s worth of sarcastic remarks that very much wanted to come out. “At least you can’t blame me for that one.”
“Don’t be so certain,” Prif Klas warned. “Halkan conspiracy laws are both clear and unforgiving.”
“Which means this is the time to cut a deal,” Applegate urged. “If you have any idea where Fayr is, or how he’s planning to get to that sub, you need to tell them. Now.”
I looked over at Bayta. She was gazing back at me, her throat tight, her eyes pleading.
But pleading for what? That I should give in and tell Mahf and Prif Klas about the gimmicked toboggan tunnel? Or that I should keep quiet and give Fayr and his people time to complete their mission, whatever the hell that mission was?
For that matter, why should I even care what Bayta wanted? She’d lied to me from the start, claiming not to be in league with Fayr and yet using the same encryption system he did. I didn’t owe her any loyalty. Turning back to Mahf, I opened my mouth—
And paused. He was gazing hard at me, his whiskers stiff, an almost breathless anticipation on his face.
And it occurred to me that, once again, I was rationalizing.
Mahf was still waiting. “I was just thinking,” I said, speaking slowly as if my hesitation had been due to a long train of thought. “Even if Fayr gets to the sub, doesn’t he still have to smuggle in some explosives or something if he’s going to damage the coral beds?”
Some of the stiffness went out of Mahf’s whiskers. “Not if he has a second sonic disruptor,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Clearly, he’d been primed and ready for me to spill my guts. “With that he could shatter the coral matrix, scattering and killing the polyps inside.”
“This is a waste of time,” Prif Klas cut in harshly. “Tell me, Compton: How much longer were you planning to stay here?”
“I reserved our suite for another two days,” I told him. “As I presume you already know.”
“Then how do you explain this?” Reaching down to the floor by his feet, he hauled up my carrybags and slammed them triumphantly onto the table beside him. “Or do you claim this is not your luggage?”
I suppressed a grimace as he retrieved Bayta’s carrybag from the floor and added it to the lineup. Of course Bayta would have packed our bags before heading out on the tour; I’d told her we’d be leaving on the afternoon torchferry. “No, it’s our luggage, all right,” I conceded.
“And how do you explain that you have packed if you intend to stay two more days?”
“Bayta’s the one who handles our transportation schedule,” I said. “She must have learned that our original plans wouldn’t mesh with the Quadrail schedule and decided we had to leave this afternoon.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his flat bulldog face. Naturally, they would already have pulled the resort’s long-range comm schedule from last night and learned she’d sent a message to the Tube. Nothing there they could use to trip me up.
But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try. “And what precisely was this scheduling conflict?” Prif Klas demanded.
Beside him, the Peer stirred in his seat. “With all due respect, Superintendent, we are getting nowhere,” he said.
“Yes, Honored One,” Prif Klas said, going instantly servile. “Your suggestion?”
The Peer gave a microscopic nod behind him. “There is a bed of coral right here,” he pointed out. “It is time we used it.”
And with that, the atmosphere in the room abruptly changed.
It wasn’t anything specific I could put my finger on; no pregnant silences or sharp inhalations, no stunned changes in expression or restless shifting of chairs. But in that moment, somehow, something changed. Something vitally important.
“Yes,” Prif Klas murmured, looking back at me with the same subtle fire I’d just seen in Mahf’s eyes. “Very well.”
“Wait a minute,” Applegate put in cautiously, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. “I don’t think this is something you really want to do.”
“You presume to speak to us thusly on our own world?” the Peer asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes were focused on Applegate like a pair of plasma torches.
“He’s a citizen of the Terran Confederation,” Applegate said, refusing to shrivel. “As such, he has certain rights.”
“You may lodge a protest when this is over,” the Peer said, motioning to the two soldiers flanking the door. “Guards: Remove his vac suit.” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “And the female’s suit, as well.”
“I can find him for you,” Bayta spoke up as the two soldiers started forward.
All eyes turned to her. “You mean Fayr?” Prif Klas asked.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was tight, her expression that of someone facing a firing squad. “I just need the reader from my carrybag.”
I frowned, trying to read past the taut skin and haunted eyes. There couldn’t possibly be anything on her reader that would tell her where Fayr was. What was she up to?
“Very well,” Prif Klas said slowly, standing up. Turning her carry-bag on its side, he popped it open.
And then, with a sudden rush of heat across my face, I understood. Rather than let them make me touch the coral, she was going to trigger the Saarix-5.
I looked back at Prif Klas as he rummaged through Bayta’s carry-bag, freshly aware of the gentle weight of the vac helmet hanging from my shoulder clip. Depending on the poison’s dispersion radius, Bayta and I might be able to get our helmets on and sealed before the Saarix reached us. Applegate might possibly manage it, too, if he figured it out and reacted quickly enough.