“No bet,” Kennrick said grimly. “Let’s find out.”
We headed down the corridor, and I noticed in passing that there was a small gray box lying on the floor beside my compartment door. I reached the Filly and leaned over him. “You going to cooperate?” I asked politely. “Or do we need to make sure you’ll hold still?”
The Filly didn’t answer. But he was clearly in no position to give any serious resistance. Straddling his torso, I slipped my hands inside his hood, found and disengaged the stiffening wires that had held it in place, and threw it back.
It was a Filly, all right. But it wasn’t any of the contract-team members, as I’d assumed. It was, instead, Logra Emikai: barstool warmer, protector of Human maidens in distress, and attempted briber of Spider agents.
“Huh,” Kennrick grunted from my side. “I guess I should have taken that bet.”
“Hilarious,” I growled, grabbing one of Emikai’s arms. “Come on—help me get him into my compartment. He has some explaining to do.”
FIFTEEN
Emikai was pretty heavy, and his legs still weren’t functioning all that well. But between Kennrick, Bayta, and me we got him into my compartment and seated more or less comfortably on the curve couch. Our next task was to remove his cloak and search for any other goodies or semi-weapons he might have on him. We confiscated another patch of clingcloth, a squeeze bulb filled with talcum powder like the booby trap he’d set up on the vestibule door, and, for good measure, the extra unlimited first-class pass that we’d known was wandering loose on our train.
We also confiscated the gadget he’d left lying by my door.
“So what now?” Kennrick asked when we’d finished our frisking.
“We start by calling in a couple of Spiders,” I said. “Bayta, I need a conductor and two mites. Have them wait out in the corridor until I need them.”
She nodded, her eyes unfocusing as she sent the message.
I watched Emikai closely during the silent communication, searching for signs of surprise or interest. But there was neither. Clearly, he already knew all about Bayta’s special relationship with the Spiders.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Bayta reported.
“Thank you,” I said. “So, Logra Emikai. How are you feeling?”
“I have been worse,” he said stiffly.
“I’m sure you have,” I said, looking him over. His convulsions had mostly ceased, but he was still twitching occasionally from the aftereffects of the kwi. I wondered which of the three pain settings Bayta had used, but I wasn’t about to ask that question with Kennrick standing there listening. He knew way too much already. “I suppose we should first offer you the easy way. Would you care to make a statement as to what the hell you’ve been up to lately?”
For a moment Emikai gazed at me, possibly trying to decide which lie would be the most believable. “Several days ago I asked you for information about the air filter analysis you claimed you would be performing,” he said. “You never returned with that information.”
“So you thought you’d stop by and help yourself to the data?”
“I stopped by merely to inquire on your progress,” he corrected.
“Of course,” I said. “You must have forgotten that I’d already told you that if there was anything relevant the Spiders would inform everyone at the same time.”
“Perhaps,” he said. His eyes drifted around the room, pausing on the two carrybags sitting together on their rack above my bed. “But perhaps they fear to reveal the truth.”
“Has anyone else dropped dead?” I asked, watching his eyes. He was definitely interested in my carrybags. Probably wondering which of them held my alleged spectroscopic analyzer. “Has anyone else even gotten sick?”
“Not to my knowledge,” he admitted, shifting his gaze back to me. “But the two Shorshians were in equally good health for over two weeks before their sudden deaths.”
“Why are you even interested about the air in that car?” Kennrick asked. “I spent a fair amount of time back there with my associates, and I never once saw you put in an appearance. Is that even your car?”
“Should not one be concerned about the welfare of others?” Emikai countered. “Especially if one has the ability to guard that welfare?” He looked back at me. “Or claims to have that ability.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t actually have the spectroscopic analysis equipment Dr. Aronobal told you about?” I asked mildly.
His nose blaze lightened noticeably in reaction at Aronobal’s name. More aftereffects of the kwi—normally he probably would have tried to suppress such a giveaway. “The Filiaelian physician?” he hedged. “I have not spoken to her about any such equipment.”
“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “It’s painfully obvious that Aronobal’s midnight call just now was to get me out of the way so you could use your little first-class pass to come up here and burgle my room.” I gestured to the carrybags. “By the way, if you were hoping for a look at my analysis equipment, forget it. It’s not actually here at the moment.”
Again, his nose blaze lightened briefly. He’d been scoping out my bags, all right. “That may be,” he said, an edge of challenge in his voice. “In my view, until I have evidence of its existence, I also have no belief.”
“Wait a second,” Kennrick said, looking back and forth between Emikai and me. “Wait just a damn second. This guy has a first-class pass? I thought he was riding in third.”
“He is,” I confirmed. “Apparently, he likes slumming.”
“Why, you son of a—” He jabbed a finger at the Filly. “It’s him. It has to be. He’s the one who’s been killing off our contract team.”
“I have harmed no one,” Emikai insisted, his blaze lightening again in reaction. “I give you my word.”
“Like your word means camel spit,” Kennrick snarled, taking a step toward him. “Compton, this is the guy. It all fits.”
“Calm down,” I soothed, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “We’re a long way yet from accusing him of mass murder.”
“Are we?” Kennrick countered. “Who else had access to both third and first?”
“Well, for starters, everyone in first,” I reminded him.
He stopped in mid-tirade, his lip twisting. “Oh. Yes, I suppose …” He trailed off.
“But attempted breaking and entering is another story,” I went on, hefting the flat gray box we’d found outside my door. On the outside, it looked like a standard bypass mimic, the sort used by locksmiths when people lock themselves out of their apartments or cars. But I was betting its guts were considerably more sophisticated than that. “You have a license for this, I assume?”
“That device is not mine,” Emikai insisted. “I never saw it before.”
“Of course not,” I said. “And you attacked me why?”
“I did not attack you,” he said. “I saw something on the door explode into a white powder in front of you, and I was coming to offer my aid.”
“You mean this kind of white powder?” I asked, holding up the squeeze bulb.
“I do not know what kind of powder it was,” Emikai said, an edge of wounded indignation in his tone. “My powder is for relief of a painful rash from which I suffer.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. With the effects of the kwi wearing off, he was proving himself a decent actor and liar both. I would have expected nothing less from the professional who’d snookered me into that trip wire in the baggage car.
The question was, what had he been looking for back there? And what had he hoped to find in my compartment?