“Didn’t Usantra Givvrac give you all that earlier?” Kennrick asked, frowning.
“He gave me his take on the lineup,” I confirmed. “I want to hear yours.”
Kennrick shrugged, wincing as the movement shifted his injured ribs. “I’ve always assumed that all four Filiaelians were for the deal, along with di-Master Strinni and probably Master Colix.”
“Leaving Master Tririn and the late Master Bofiv as the only two opposed?” I asked.
“Right.” Kennrick grimaced. “But since Usantra Givvrac said it was actually four to four, I obviously miscounted somewhere.”
“So it would seem,” I agreed. “Was that the way you saw things, too, Dr. Witherspoon?”
“More or less,” he said. “I wasn’t so sure Usantra Givvrac was on our side, but I was counting on the other three Filiaelians.”
“So who else in the group is against us?” Kennrick asked.
“That’s unimportant at the moment.” I said. “So by your reckoning—”
“Why is it unimportant?” Witherspoon put in.
“Give me a minute and you’ll see,” I told him. “So by your reckoning, the victims were three for Pellorian and one against?”
“Compton—” Witherspoon began.
“Yes,” Kennrick said, holding a quieting hand toward the doctor.
“Just making sure,” I said. “Now, the important question: have either of you discussed any part of this with anyone outside Pellorian Medical since the contract team arrived on Earth?”
The light seemed to dawn in Kennrick’s eyes. “I get it,” he said, nodding. “Unfortunately, no, we haven’t. Well, I haven’t. I assume Dr. Witherspoon hasn’t, either.”
“What do you mean, unfortunately?” Witherspoon asked. “Why is it unfortunate?”
“Because if we’d told someone about the team, and that someone was relying on our count, it might show up in the pattern of killings,” Kennrick told him.
“Exactly,” I said. “It’s important to get into a murderer’s head, but sometimes it can be enough to get into his eyes. If we can figure out how he sees things, we may be able to backtrack him. So, Doctor: did you discuss the contract with anyone outside Pellorian’s walls?”
“Absolutely not,” Witherspoon said firmly.
“How about on the torchliner from Earth to Terra Station?”
“Again, no,” Kennrick said. “Ethics aside, loose talk like that can get you fired on the spot.”
“How about discussing the matter with the rest of the contract team when you thought you were in private, but where someone might possibly have been able to eavesdrop?”
“I—” Kennrick broke off, turning a suddenly uncertain look on Witherspoon. “Well, actually, I don’t really know,” he said slowly. “Torchliner acoustics aren’t as well designed as a Quadrail’s. And the four Shorshians and I did have several mealtime discussions together.”
“Did you ever take straw votes at these discussions?” I asked.
“They never did while I was present,” Kennrick said. “But they might have done so after I left. They never talked about things like that in front of me.”
“Or me,” Witherspoon seconded.
“Understandable,” I said. “I’ll try asking Master Tririn about it in the morning.”
“I’m sorry, but this still doesn’t make sense,” Witherspoon said. “If it’s about whether the contract succeeds or fails, shouldn’t the killer be eliminating only the team members who are opposing him?”
“In theory, sure,” I said. “In actual practice, focusing exclusively on his opponents would be about as clever as taking out a full-page ad announcing his intentions. He’ll need to muddy the water by killing at least one of his own side.”
“Which fits the current situation exactly,” Kennrick murmured.
“So you think he wants to defeat the contract?” Witherspoon asked.
“Possibly,” I said, eyeing Kennrick. He was gazing off into space, a thoughtful look on his face. “But we’ve got a long way to go before we start jumping at that kind of conclusion. Something else, Kennrick?”
“I don’t know.” Kennrick said slowly. “I was just wondering if Dr. Witherspoon might be right about this being a revenge thing, only the killer was only after one of the victims, not all four of them. Is it possible that he killed the others just to make his real target less apparent?”
Witherspoon hissed between his teeth. “Good God.”
“It has been done before,” I agreed. “But again, without knowing anything about the victims’ backgrounds, that theory won’t get us very far.”
“Probably not,” Kennrick conceded. “I just thought I should mention it.”
“Consider it mentioned,” I said. “Let’s switch gears a minute. Dr. Witherspoon, can you tell me anything about what happened earlier back in Osantra Qiddicoj’s coach car?”
“Not really,” Witherspoon said, fingering his neck gingerly. “I was following you to his seat when something hit me. The next thing I knew, your friend Bayta and a conductor were standing over me, trying to get me to wake up.”
“Did you hear anything before you were hit?” I asked. “The sound of the vestibule door opening behind you, stealthy footsteps, heavy breathing—anything?”
Witherspoon shook his head. “He could have materialized out of thin air for all I know.”
“Did you see or hear anything odd alter you woke up?”
“Again, no,” Witherspoon said. “Bayta and the conductor helped me back to the dispensary—and took Osantra Qiddicoj in there, too, of course—then went back to look for you.” He grimaced. “And before you ask, I have no idea why anyone would want to attack me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t you he was after, Doc,” Kennrick suggested, eyeing me speculatively. “Maybe he wanted Compton, and you were just in his way.”
“That is a thought,” Witherspoon agreed, giving me a speculative look of his own. “After all, you were the one who figured out what was wrong with the Filiaelians. If he wanted Usantra Givvrac dead, you were the one he needed to shut up.”
“Except that at the time no one knew I had the answer,” I reminded him. “Including me.”
“The attacker still might have thought you were getting close,” Witherspoon said.
“Or maybe you had something he wanted,” Kennrick said suddenly. “You still have those tissue samples from Master Colix and Master Bofiv?”
“I assume they’re still in my room,” I lied, shifting my elbow slightly against my chest to press reassuringly against the vials in my pocket. The samples from the air filter and Givvrac’s drink were indeed an obvious target for the killer to go after, which is why they’d been the first thing I’d checked when Bayta and the Spider got me out of that chair. “Any of your stuff gone, Doc?”
Witherspoon shook his head. “If it is, it’s nothing important.”
“What do you mean, if it is?” Kennrick asked, frowning. “Haven’t you checked your pockets and your bag?”
“Of course I have,” Witherspoon said. “My pockets haven’t been touched, and he made a mess of my bag when he was looking for tape to tie up Mr. Compton with.”
I focused on the medical bag still silting in the middle of our table. “What kind of mess?” I asked carefully.
“A mess kind of mess,” Witherspoon said with a touch of impatience. “Everything got moved or shifted around, with vials and pill cartridges and all dumped in the bottom. That sort of thing.”
“He dumped everything in the bottom while he was looking for tape?” I asked.
“Yes,” Witherspoon said, frowning. “What’s your point?”
I looked at Kennrick, saw the light starting to dawn there. “Doc, no one throws a bunch of vials around when they’re looking for a roll of tape,” I said. “He wanted something else in there.”