I looked at Bayta, eyebrows raised. “Bayta?” I said.
“Logra Emikai’s device doesn’t work on Quadrail locks,” she said. “The Spiders have tried it on several, and it won’t even read them, let alone duplicate the trip codes.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Kennrick said. “Do you have it?”
“At the moment, yes,” I told him. “Why?”
“I’d like to take a look at it,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Why?” I repeated, making no move toward my pocket. “You heard her—the Spiders have already concluded it’s useless here.”
“That assumes the Spiders actually know the mimic’s whole potential,” Kennrick countered, his hand still outstretched. “But there could very well be another tech layer below the surface that you can’t reach unless you punch in an access code.”
“And you know what Logra Emikai’s code might be?”
“I already told you, I know a little about these gadgets,” Kennrick replied. “Give me an hour, and I’ll bet I can find the next level down.”
“Interesting thought,” I said again. “I’ll ask the Spiders to have another go at it.”
For a moment Kennrick and I locked eyes. Then, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. But if you want my opinion, you’ve got the thief and the killer already tied up.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” I said. “Thanks for clearing that up. We’ll let you get back to your meeting now. Good day, Asantra Muzzfor.”
“And to you, Mr. Compton,” Muzzfor said, inclining his head. His face, I noted, still had that lion/elk expression.
Bayta waited until we were out in the corridor before speaking again. “Do you believe him about Usantra Givvrac’s order?”
I shrugged. “It’s plausible enough, I suppose, especially if Givvrac thought Kennrick was trying to unduly influence the three Shorshians back there.”
“I wonder if Mr. Kennrick really does like Shorshians and their food that much,” Bayta murmured.
“That part does seem a little thin,” I agreed. “And of course, with Givvrac now inconveniently dead, there’s no way to confirm any of it.”
“I also find it strange that he disobeyed Usantra Givvrac and then didn’t even tell Master Colix what he’d supposedly gone back there to say.” Bayta hunched her shoulders. “You think we should ask the Modhri what they actually did talk about?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I told her. “Besides, there’s also the possibility Kennrick thought he might be able to change Givvrac’s mind enough to at least let him host the halfway celebration they were planning. In that case, he also wouldn’t mention his new marching orders.” I glanced behind us to make sure no one was within earshot. “Personally, I’m more interested in Kennrick’s ideas about Emikai’s mimic. Could it have another programming layer to it?”
“I suppose that’s possible,” she said. “I’ll have the twitters look into it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “By the way, it sounded earlier like you were having doubts about Aronobal starting that rumor about us clobbering Emikai and throwing him off the train. That still true?”
She looked suspiciously at me. “Why?”
“Because I agree with you,” I said. “More intriguing is the fact that Kennrick’s IQ seems to have dropped a few points today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s being remarkably slow at picking up on the obvious,” I said. “First there was your suggestion that Aronobal should be trying to find out what we know instead of starting a rumor to keep us away from her. The obvious counterargument is that Aronobal is the amateur part of the team—amateur in the skullduggery aspects, anyway—and hasn’t got the chops to brazen out a role like that. That should also have occurred to Kennrick, only apparently it never did.”
I nodded back over my shoulder. “And now it only just occurs to him, after a whole bunch of hours, that Emikai’s mimic is the perfect solution to the mystery of Colix’s vanishing lozenges.”
“Maybe he’s just not as good at this as you are,” Bayta suggested.
“Or maybe there are other reasons,” I said. “Such as hoping we’ll think of the mimic ourselves so he doesn’t have to look like he’s grabbing on to the first diversion that comes along.”
Bayta pursed her lips. “So if Dr. Aronobal didn’t start the rumor, who did? And why?”
“Not sure about that,” I admitted. “On the surface, I can’t see what sense it makes.”
“Maybe it doesn’t make sense because there’s no sense to be made,” Bayta said hesitantly. “Maybe Usantra Givvrac was right, that the killer is just insane.”
“He’s not insane, and it does make sense,” I said firmly. “We just have to find the right way to put the pieces together.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not being more help,” she said. “Putting people’s motives and thoughts under a microscope—that’s not something I’m good at.”
I stared at her, my stomach tightening as a memory abruptly popped into my mind: Emikai, still twitching from the aftereffects of the kwi, studying my luggage as if he could see through it to the spectral analysis equipment he assumed was inside.
There it was, the nagging feeling I’d been wrestling with. And with it, the clue I hadn’t even known I’d been missing. Not what had been done, but what hadn’t been done.
And suddenly, I had it. I had it all.
“Too bad Korak Fayr isn’t here—” Bayta broke off with a muffled gasp as I grabbed her arm and picked up my pace, dragging her forward. “Frank?”
“Come on,” I told her grimly. “We’ve got work to do.”
“You’ve figured it out?” she asked, a flicker of hope in her voice.
“I think so,” I said, my mind flashing back to the very beginning of our journey. Bayta had called it, all the way back then. She’d called it exactly.
My past had indeed come back to haunt me.
“It’s the Modhri?” she asked, her arm tensing inside my grip.
“No,” I said. “Actually, it’s worse.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the case, and laying out the facts to test against my new theory. By the time we broke for dinner, I was ninety percent convinced I was right.
With luck, I would get that final ten percent tonight.
I waited until two in the morning by the train’s clocks, when even the most dedicated night owls among the passengers were probably thinking about turning in. Bayta offered to come with me, but I told her to go back to bed. There was nothing that could put the damper on a heart-to-heart, off-the-record conversation like having a third party present.
And so I made my solitary way back through first, through second, and through third, until I was in the baggage car by the dead bodies, standing in front of Logra Emikai.
I’d left the Filly in a fairly awkward and uncomfortable position when I’d retied his bonds, mainly because with my limited resources I hadn’t had a lot of alternatives. To my mild surprise, I found he’d risen to the challenge of his situation. With strategic repositioning of the chair, toilet, and table, he’d been able to stretch out instead of having to sleep sitting upright. His head was pillowed, hammock-style, on one of his pinioned arms, while the other hung free. It looked tolerable, even marginally comfortable.
Of course, if he turned over in his sleep he would instantly roll off his makeshift three-point bed and land on the floor, which would snap him fully awake as well as possibly giving one or both of his arms a nasty sprain. Still, it was an ingenious use of resources. One more indication, I reminded myself, of the kind of person I was dealing with.