Poisoned Pawn (8 page)

I hung up feeling a bit better. Maybe I could sign a contract with him, depending on how often he wanted runs made. I had a list of the worlds where he shipped his goods. I went to the library section and put in a request for trade items listed for those worlds. I was informed it would take several hours to process.

I wandered back out to the street. Now would be a good time to visit the Patrol offices and look for Tayvis. My heart skipped a beat at the thought. They didn’t know me on Shamustel, they wouldn’t kick me out like they had on Tebros.

At least I hoped they wouldn’t.

* * *

The Patrol offices were at the far end of the port. Most of my walk was through the market district.

I stopped by a jewelry shop, caught by the display in the window. Shimmering winged jewels smaller than my fingernail danced and glittered on strands of gold so fine they floated. I went into the shop.

The air inside shimmered on every breath. The whole ceiling was aflutter with more of the jeweled creations. I stared up at them, entranced.

“May I help you?” a soft whispery voice asked.

The woman who had offered was as shimmery as her creations. She was a wispy thing, barely my height. She wore a shapeless gray dress that fluttered and danced with every movement. She watched me with strange silver eyes.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, pointing at the display overhead.

The woman’s face glowed with pleasure. “The real ones are even more beautiful. Would you like to try one on?”

I couldn’t refuse. She plucked a gossamer strand of gold from the air. A single lavender creature fluttered down with it. She handed it to me. It was an intricate net of fine gold. The lavender creature, slender body with six lacy wings crafted from precious stone, was caught in a delicate knot.

“It’s beautiful.” The gold draped over my hand. I was acutely aware of the chewed state of my nails. I had a scar across the back of one hand, the creature fluttered near it. I could never wear something so delicate. I felt thick and cloddish just holding it.

“You don’t sell many,” I guessed.

She shrugged, a thin movement that sent her dress dancing in gray waves.

“How much do you want for them?” I lifted my hand, watching the lavender jewel flutter.

“What do you want?” she asked, her silver eyes suddenly dark and mysterious.

“I could sell these quite well, on a planet closer to the inner worlds.” I could, too. If I could find the right boutique shop.

“What do you really want?” she asked me, her wispy voice carrying the sound of distant bells.

“A cargo,” I said.

She studied me a bit longer, with her strange eyes. Then she laughed, a sound like the chiming of tiny bells. “Come talk to me later. Perhaps I’ll let you buy some. You may keep that one as a sample.” She tucked my hand around the single lavender creature. Her touch was light, cool, smooth as Partha silk.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.

She smiled, a mysterious curve of lips that hinted at secrets she knew and I didn’t. The smile followed me all the way out the door.

I tucked the jewelry in a pocket and made a note of the shop name and location. Maybe I’d send Jasyn back to see what she thought. I walked on, enjoying the morning.

The Patrol offices were adorned with pompous pillars, like most of the buildings. The lobby was huge, paved with black stone polished until it shone like a mirror. The walls were bare gray stone, also polished. The Patrol shield, complete with glowing stars, hung in the air in the precise center of the room, rotating slowly. I crossed the floor, boots clicking, to a reception desk at the far side.

It was a huge imposing block of stone. The single man ensconced behind it stared as I approached. I leaned on the chest-high counter. He didn’t say anything. His hands moved constantly over a set of controls.

“May I help you?” he finally said, in a voice that let me know that the answer was most likely no. His hands kept moving.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said, nervous and unsure of exactly how to ask. “I need to get him a message.”

“We are not a message service,” he said.

“Then can you tell me how to contact him? He’s Patrol, on assignment somewhere. It’s important.” It was important, to me.

“What is his name?”

“Malcolm Tayvis.”

His fingers clicked over keys. “Rank?”

“Sector Commander.”

He stopped moving his hands and glared.

“Maybe not. Can you just search for his name?”

He hit a button, the click sounded final in the vast stone lobby. “There is no one by that name.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.” He looked away, at a screen. His hands moved over the controls again. I was dismissed.

“Thanks anyway,” I said.

I felt his eyes on me the whole way across the lobby.

I walked out into a morning that didn’t seem as bright. I could send a message to Grant Lowell, I knew that one would go through, but then Lowell would want something in return. He wanted me, in the Patrol, under his command. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

I had one more option to find Tayvis. I could find bars where off-duty Patrol hung out and ask them if they knew Tayvis. And maybe in a hundred years I’d get lucky and find one. Tayvis was in the Enforcers, who didn’t hang out in bars, at least not ones I could get into. I could search public directories for him, but I had no idea where his home planet was. There was no way the directories could list every citizen of the Empire. I might get lucky, but I doubted it.

I headed across town to my lunch appointment with the ceramics dealer.

Lunch was disappointing. The restaurant we met at was one of the cheaper ones. The flowers on the table were plastic. The food may as well have been plastic. The dealer, Juntis Shoot, was a thin man, wearing old fashioned glasses, and a huge chip on his shoulder. The last ship he’d contracted with, he told me in a loud voice, had stolen the last shipment he’d sent with them. It was never delivered.

I asked him if maybe the ship had been lost, it did still happen. He glared and kept right on telling me how untrustworthy spacers were, especially the independent traders. I shifted in my seat so he could see the patch on my shoulder, the one that said Independent Traders Guild in big red letters. He didn’t even pause.

“Why don’t you use a contract shipping service?” I finally broke in to ask. “Since you don’t trust traders.”

That launched him off on a new stream of complaints, this time about the prices charged by the big shipping companies for even small cargoes.

I ate my bland food and waited for him to slow down.

“Hom Shoot,” I said, raising my hand to interrupt him and using the local form of address, “Do you want to sign a contract with me or not? I am an independent trader, bonded by the Guild, which guarantees your cargo, even if something happens and I can’t deliver it.”

“How much?” he said abruptly.

“For one run?”

“No, no,” he said and waved his hands. “How much for you to contract to deliver all of them? One shipment a week. One week off every four months.”

“I’m not sure I want to sign a permanent contract, Hom Shoot. How about a trial run for both of us? I’ll take your cargo to Kimmel and send a message back if I decide not to continue shipping for you. Otherwise I’ll be back for another—”

“Won’t do,” he said and frowned, shoving his glasses up his nose with one bony finger. “I have shipments for Ytirus, Cygnus, and Kimmel taking up storage space. I’m paying for them to sit there and collect dust. And I’ll have another shipment ready in four days. You’ll have to take all of them.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You can’t do that,” he said primly. “Guild rules.”

“Hom Shoot, I haven’t signed anything. I can walk out without breaking any rules.”

He blinked rapidly several times. He looked like a fish, one that wasn’t in water at the moment. He dove into a thick case he’d brought with him and pulled out a fistful of papers.

“Sign here,” he said stabbing at the paper.

I picked it up and started reading it.

“You don’t need to do that,” he protested. “Standard contract. Just sign it.”

I shifted away from him and continued reading. It was much more than a standard contract. I was basically agreeing to haul his ceramics until the universe ended if I signed it as written. For the same price forever. I picked up the pen. He quivered, eager to see me sign. I crossed out several chunks of small text. His nose twitched.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Trial contract,” I answered, writing in additional clauses. “I’ll deliver the three cargoes you currently have in storage, over the next three weeks, and then I’ll contact you to decide if I want to sign something more permanent.”

He spluttered, outraged to the point where he couldn’t talk. It was an improvement.

“I’ll charge you the standard delivery fees,” I added, writing a list of charges below the clauses I’d added. “Payable either up front or on delivery, whichever you have arranged.” I signed my name and ship name and put the pen down. “Failure to pay will result in legal action taken on my behalf by the Guild.” Which also meant he’d be blacklisted by the Guild, I could tell he knew that by his sudden gulp.

“I pay a deposit up front, the rest you collect on delivery,” he said reaching for the contract.

He took the paper and read through it, especially the parts I’d added. He frowned over the charges. I’d listed them by distance and time as well as cargo weight, since I had no idea where the planets were located, it was the safest way to guarantee I was fair to both of us. He opened his mouth to protest. I just looked at him. He snapped his mouth shut and signed.

“I’ll expect delivery of the cargo this afternoon,” I said taking my copy of the contract. “The ship is in berth five twenty two. Nice doing business with you.”

His thin face twitched, his mouth stretched out into something that was almost pleasant. “I admire a sharp dealer, captain, but the contract stipulates that you will arrange for delivery of the cargo from my warehouse to your ship.”

“It said nothing of the kind,” I answered with my own smile. “But I’ll do it anyway, this once. Good day, Hom Shoot. And thanks for the lunch.” I left him with the bill. He didn’t seem to mind.

I walked outside the restaurant and called Jasyn. Her com wasn’t answering; I got the out of range message. I tried Clark and got a busy signal. It wasn’t important. I headed back to the ship.

The streets were crowded, it was lunch time and most of the population seemed to be outside enjoying the sunshine. I picked my way through the crowds, not in any particular hurry. It shouldn’t take long to find a cargo hauler and pick up the ceramics.

The streets were wide, but designed more for walking than vehicles. Flitters passed constantly overhead. The wide streets had plenty of landing pads as well as low planters full of blooming plants. It was a very pleasant planet.

I stopped to admire a particularly eye-catching blue flower. Something zinged past my hand. A chip of plascrete snapped off the planter and flipped away. I froze in place. Another chip snapped off and clipped my hand, drawing blood. I stepped to the side, looking for cover. Someone grabbed me in arms hard with muscle and shoved me into an alleyway. He pinned me against the wall. All I could see was green fabric, the same color as my own suit.

“Stay still,” Clark muttered.

“I can’t breathe,” I muttered back. He let me go, barely. I slid to the side, staying close to the wall.

He had his back to me and a small gun in his hand, watching the street beyond the alley. I shifted farther into the shadows. I watched the street, past the blue flowers. I caught sight of two men in dark outfits moving purposefully towards us.

“We’ve got company,” I said.

“I see them,” Clark answered. He’d transformed into a cold professional, voice precise and eyes hard as stone. He handled his gun with a very practiced air.

He lunged into the street and came right back, dragging someone with him, gun tight against the man’s cheek. “Make the wrong move and I shoot,” Clark said in a voice as cold as his eyes. “Why are you following us?”

The man jerked his head, but Clark kept a tight hold on his collar.

“Why do you think?” the man said, giving me a cold look.

“You tell me,” Clark threatened, “or I start shooting bits off.”

The man just smiled, a narrow look that was anything but amused or happy.

I caught movement beyond him at the mouth of the alley. The other men were coming, guns held low. The good citizens of Shamustel didn’t seem to notice. Man number one twisted, breaking Clark’s grip. Clark lashed out and punched him in the face. The other men moved faster, closing in on us. I did the only thing I could think of.

I screamed.

I definitely attracted attention. The dark men put their guns away and melted back into the crowds. People stopped to peer into the alley. I heard sirens in the distance. Clark and man number one punched each other a few more times. Man number one was trying to get away; Clark kept him in the alley.

The local police landed outside the alley, dozens of blue uniforms swarmed over the area. Clark and man number one were separated. Clark moved back to stand by me.

“What happened here?” one of the police asked us.

“They mugged me,” man number one said.

“He was shooting at me,” I said.

“Take them all to the station,” the policeman ordered his underlings.

“I want to press charges,” man number one continued. “They assaulted me.”

Clark didn’t say anything.

The police searched all of us. I emptied my pockets and showed them my ID cards, a few credits, the necklace the fluttery woman had given me, and the contract for the ceramics from Juntis Shoot. The police handed them all back.

I watched them search Clark, my nerves twitching. I wondered how he was going to explain his gun. It wasn’t legal on Shamustel. He didn’t look worried. He didn’t have the gun. The police found it in man number one’s pocket. Clark winked. I bit back a grin. Man number one protested loudly as they cuffed him and led him away.