“I have to admit,” Mannie went on, “that your coming down here all hush-hush to contact the doctor rather than Victoria just calling her and buying her a ticket on the next shuttle up gives me a bad feeling about the way the Peterwalds are running this railroad. Bad feelings.”
Coffee arrived, and Mannie took the time to add milk and sugar to his mug. Kris sipped hers black.
It was quite good.
“I could be down here for other reasons and just dropped by the hospital for Doc Maggie because I was in the vicinity.”
Mannie tasted his coffee, made a happy face, and put it down. “Yes, there is the other matter of your mission down here. That bothers me a lot more than losing the services of a very good and dedicated emergency-services doctor. We need to talk about that, but first, I really wish you would place a call to Victoria Peterwald and see if we can set up a meeting with her.”
“A meeting,” Kris said cautiously. “For what reason?”
“That’s kind of hard to put into words. Not that I don’t know what I hope to come of the meeting, it’s just what I’m hoping for is kind of old-fashioned.”
“Try me,” Kris said.
“We’d like the king to grant our city a charter.”
“A king’s charter,” Kris said. “You do know that Greenfeld doesn’t have a king.”
“Yes, I know. We seem to be stuck with all the worst aspects of a tyrant without any of the upsides of nobility. You certainly understand the limits of noblesse oblige.”
“It’s yanked her chain a few times,” Jack said.
“Then you understand our problem here. We in Greenfeld have the most exquisite constitution in human history. The only problem with it, if it can be allowed to be called a problem, is that nobody ever uses it. It’s a magnificent wall decoration somewhere in the capital. But it’s never allowed to complicate the matters of daily business. You understand?”
“I don’t imagine you’ve had this conversation with anyone from State Security,” Abby said. “I see that you still have all your fingernails.”
Mannie held up his hands, displayed hands unmarred and fit for a concert pianist. “Yes, silence is often the better part of valor. However, you may have notice that Greenfeld State Security is recently conspicuous by its absence.”
“It didn’t make it any easier for us to sneak into town,” Jack pointed out. “Have you taken over the snitch concession?”
“Our Baker Street Irregulars,” Mannie said with a laugh. “No, no. You misunderstand them. Those kids and old folks who helped us track you in weren’t snitching for the black shirts. Well, not unless we wanted them to,” Mannie said, making a face.
“No, they were our snitches tailing the black shirts. It got to where one of them could hardly move without us knowing where they were going and what they were up to.”
Mannie laid a commlink on the table. “We manufacture these here in Sevastopol. They’ve got extra bandwidth just so we can send and track the black shirts. We had them on a tight leash before the Peterwalds ever decided to hang them by their collars.”
Kris nodded slowly at the admissions. “Vicky told me that you were in touch with the black market and able to do a deal with them to keep the city going when the, ah, black shirts beat it out of town. It sounds like there was a lot more to Sevastopol’s underground than just smugglers bringing in a bit of mall glitter.”
Mannie grinned. “St. Petersburg was where the heavy industry was. It was where most of the money was. So long as we paid our taxes and didn’t kill anyone, we were left on our own. That city charter I mentioned. All we want to do is make it official and get something on paper with a Peterwald’s signature. Really, nothing more.”
“You realize,” Abby said, “you’re running the serious risk of being noticed. Why not just keep things the way they are? They keep on looking the other way, and you keep on doing what you want?”
“Because things are changing, and who says they’ll ever be the same again,” Mannie said. “Look at it from my perspective. Things could go back to the way they were. Things could get a whole lot worse.” He held up both hands. “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but it could. Whether Peterwald keeps on top of the dog pile or doesn’t, we could wind up with some two-bit tin god of a warlord keeping one finger in everyone’s soup and the other in everyone’s eye. I’d like to offer Miss Victoria another option, one I’m not sure they ever thought of. Let the locals look after themselves. We won’t do anything to bother her and her old man at the planetary or Alliance level. They don’t appoint anyone to muck around in our life.”
“And my place in this?” Kris said.
“Whether you regret it or not, you saved Henry’s neck once. You do seem to be some kind of friend to Miss Victoria. You could put in a good word for my side, and it might be listened to. Your signature on the document might make it harder to disappear it. You game?” Mannie said, raising two expressive eyebrows.
“It’s worth a try, but we still haven’t talked about what brought me down here. Let me call Vicky, then we have to talk.”
“It’s a deal,” Mannie said.
“Nelly, get me Vicky.”
“Kris, she’s in the Forward Lounge, so this call should be safe on that side. There are a whole lot of electronic devices on this end.”
“Could we jam them?” Kris asked.
Mannie looked around the diner. “It would piss off a lot of folks who are just going about their morning business. And probably lose me a couple of votes, too. Do you really think it’s necessary?”
“My dear old dad taught me never to do something that cost a hardworking politician any votes. Especially him. Now Jack here, my security boss, is having a hissy fit, but if he doesn’t have at least one a day, he gets hemorrhoids.”
Jack set a new record for scowl . . . but said nothing.
“Hi, Kris, how’s it going?” said Vicky in a way-too-chipper tone of voice.
“Not nearly as well as I’d been hoping it would,” Kris answered.
“But things always go so well for you,” Vicky said, failing totally to make her voice sound believable.
“You keep this up, and you better be careful of what I wish for,” Kris said. “How about you coming down here and seeing what my day is like?”
“Is there a real problem? Can’t you find Maggie?” Vicky sounded seriously concerned now.
“Maggie is sitting across the table from me. She’s fine and heading up to the station just as fast as I can take her.”
“Oh, that’s good,” had serious relief in it. “So what seems to be the problem?”
Kris waved at Nelly at her neck, then waved at Mannie to take over from here.
He gave Kris a three-finger wave off. Please, you do this for me was all over his face.
Kris sighed and went on. “I’m talking to Mannie Artamus, one of the nicest guys you’ve never met. You remember him, the city manager of Sevastopol?”
“I’ve heard of him,” was rather hard-bitten.
“He would really like to talk to you,” Kris said.
“Is he holding you hostage?” Vicky snapped. “You and Maggie?”
“No,” Mannie said, half-out of his seat. “Nobody is holding anyone hostage. No hostages here,” he insisted, as Kris waved him back to his chair.
“Vicky, you know me,” Kris cut in. “Nobody takes me hostage. God help any kidnapper who falls into my hands. No, I’m having coffee and waiting for a delicious slice of pie. You understand. I’m talking with a man who needs something from me and who I need something from myself. Force is not an issue on this table.”
Jack didn’t look all that assured at Kris’s words, but he said nothing.
“What’s Mr. Artamus want?” Vicky said guardedly.
“Your and my signatures on a city charter.”
“What’s a city charter?” Vicky asked.
That question told Kris all she needed to know about life in the Greenfeld Alliance. “Something cities used to have a couple of hundred years ago,” Kris said, waving Mannie to silence. “It outlined their duties and responsibilities to the king and his duties toward them.”