By Darkness Forged Page 6

  “Rachel, I think. I’m not sure, actually.” He shrugged. “Last time we were here at Mel’s we tried it out. We just got in this morning and thought to try it again.”

  “Odd,” he said, but shrugged. “I need to get back in there and soothe some ruffled feathers. You and Captain Wang have a nice evening. Order what you like, just don’t mention that you saw us here?” Quentin held a hand out for me to shake. “Nice to see you again, Ishmael. Sorry it’s in such awkward circumstances.”

  I shook his hand and laughed. “I fly with Pip. There are no other kind of circumstances when he’s around.”

  He chuckled and waited until the staff returned to show us to a table before re-entering the private room.

  We did the necessary with the staff to get beer and beef moving toward the table before Pip leaned across to me. “Who did you see in there?”

  “Nobody I recognized beyond your aunt and uncle.”

  “Tall guy. Going fashionably gray? Vandyke beard? Seated to the left of Aunt P?”

  “Yeah. He seemed really put out.”

  “You caught that, too?”

  I nodded.

  “Recognize him?”

  “Should I?”

  “That’s the guy who tried to outbid us for the Chernyakova. Vagrant.”

  I shrugged. “All right. And ...?”

  Pip shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s got a bad odor here in the Toe-Holds for some reason I’m not privy to. It’s not much better out in the High Line.”

  “Well, he’s in a conference with your Aunt P and Uncle Q. With any luck we didn’t screw up some kind of business deal.”

  “It would explain why he bought this place,” Pip said.

  “Cover for meetings?”

  Pip nodded.

  “He’s not exactly a prominent individual, is he?” I asked. “Is anybody even looking at him?”

  Pip sat back and took a pull from his pilsner. “Hard telling.”

  “Not our problem,” I said. “We’re looking for—what? Exactly?”

  “I’m still hoping we’re going to get a lead on the mega,” Pip said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I get a reward for finding the lost ship.”

  I blinked. “That’s new.”

  “I’m breaking about sixteen different NDAs by telling you, but I’m trying to be a little more forthcoming,” he said. “Just keep it between us.”

  “You’re not worried about somebody overhearing us in here?” I thought I was teasing him but he didn’t seem to get the joke.

  “Not really. There’s a white-noise generator running in here to keep the conversations from spilling over. We’re not talking very loud, I’ve got a jammer in my pocket, and the nearest live ear is about three meters that way.” He nodded behind me.

  “Really?” I asked. “A jammer?”

  “You want to see it?” he asked, reaching for his pocket, his normal, bantering tone turning acerbic.

  “Nope. I wouldn’t know what I was looking at anyway.”

  The server returned with our steaks and we let the rest of the evening pass around us without additional commentary on what Pip’s aunt and uncle might be doing with some kind of semi-criminal financier behind a closed door in what amounted to a private club.

  As we left, replete with good food and great beer, I asked, “Did you recognize anybody else?”

  He shook his head. “Not by name. At least two of them were bodyguard types. The woman across from Vagrant looked vaguely familiar, but she’s either eye candy or distraction.”

  “You got that from a glimpse?”

  “Of the half dozen people in there, she was the only one who didn’t look pissed off when the door opened.”

  “Which means what?”

  “Well, it could mean she has excellent hearing and heard us outside before the knock so she wasn’t surprised and had a chance to compose herself before we crashed the meeting,” he said.

  “You don’t think so.”

  “No, not really. It’s more likely she was just bored and looking for something to entertain her.”

  We walked along in silence until we got to the docking gallery. Pip walked past our ship without stopping.

  “We going somewhere?”

  “Small ship dock.”

  “Checking up on the family?” I asked.

  “Something like that. I want to see if they brought the Bad Penny.”

  “What’s your thinking?”

  “The Penny is too well known.” He shrugged. “If they’re doing something they want to keep quiet, they’ll have brought something else.”

  We reached the small ship docks and began working along the locks, looking at the lock designators. “Most of these are blank,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you hope to see?”

  Pip shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”

  We reached the end of the small ship docks without finding a single ship with the name showing at the lock panel.

  “That was a bust,” I said.

  “Was a long shot at best, but we walked off some of that food and beer.” Pip shrugged again and headed back down the docking gallery toward the Chernyakova.

  “Maybe not. Isn’t that your cousin, Roger?” I asked.

  Pip looked up. “Looks like. Let’s go say hello.”

  We strolled along toward Roger. I could tell the exact moment he saw us coming. It was the stutter-step in his gait.

  When we got close enough, he said, “Pip. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “We were just in the neighborhood. Dropping off a can of machine parts. Taking a stroll. Just another day in the life. What brings you to Mel’s Place?”

  “We ran into Quentin at the restaurant,” I added, hoping to forestall any attempt at dissembling. “He bought us dinner.”

  “He did. That’s a great place,” Pip said.

  “I’m stuck holding down the ship, as always,” Roger said. “Just stepped out for some takeaway.” He held up the bag.

  “Well, don’t let us keep you,” Pip said. “Nice running into family out here. How long you going to be on station?”

  “Probably gone in the morning,” he said. “You?”

  “We’ve got a couple more days. Some yard upgrades. Give the crew liberty.”

  “What are you sailing around these days? I saw the Son at Port Lumineux. Your father said you weren’t using it anymore.”

  “You remember Ishmael?” Pip presented me with a wave of his hands like I was some kind of game-show prize. “He and I are in business together. Picked up a used Barbell and we’re just getting our feet wet in bulk freight.” He paused. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

  “How’s that working for you?”

  “We got a good deal on the ship itself. Auctions can be fun. We’ve almost paid off the notes. There’s a lot more money in bulk freight than I thought. Even with the crew costs and all. It’s giving me a chance to test some of my theories on nondiversified cargo distribution.”

  Roger’s eyes started to glaze over. I really understood his point of view.

  I pulled Pip’s arm. “Come on, Pip. Roger’s food’s getting cold and we should really head back and make sure nobody’s stolen the boat.”

  Pip nodded. “Great seeing you, Roger. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” With a jaunty wave, he led the way along the docking gallery. He pulled his tablet out and began fiddling with it. He shook it a couple of times, frowned, tapped it on the side of his hand.

  His antics had positioned him just slightly behind me so I had to turn to see what he was doing.

  “Has he continued on his way yet?” Pip asked.

  A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Roger staring after us.

  “Not yet.”

  He handed me his tablet. “Here, you fiddle with it a little. See if you can get it to light up.”

  “Powering it up would probably help,” I said, noting the switch on the side.

/>   “Well, yes, it probably would, but then why would we be standing here in the docking gallery?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roger shrug and continue along. “He’s moving.”

  “How far down?”

  “Coming up on the third lock. That’s the one. He’s keying it open.”

  “Did it actually open or is he just fiddling with the lock?”

  “Fiddling,” I said when the lock didn’t actually open.

  “He’s being careful. Gimme the tablet back?”

  I handed it to him.

  He flipped the switch, lighting up the front panel. “Ah. There!” He held the tablet up so I could see it. In the process he glanced over his shoulder and offered a final wave to his cousin who still watched us.

  Pip continued on our way, pulling me along in his wake as if by gravity. He kept waving his tablet around in the air. First in front of his face and then off to the side. It took me a moment to realize the camera was open and showed the view over his shoulder.

  We hadn’t gone more than a dozen meters down the gallery before Roger finally opened one of the locks and slipped inside. The lock door swung closed behind him but not before Pip flashed a digital of the open lock.

  “All right,” he said, securing the tablet. “We know which lock is theirs.”

  “Is that important?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know right now, but something smells off.”

  “How so?”

  “First, Roger wasn’t happy to see me. Second, he was really surprised when we said we’d met Uncle Quentin. Third, he walked past the real lock and pretended to open a different one. That by itself makes my curiosity bump itch.”

  “You sure it’s not your scalp adjusting to not being abused by bleach every few days?”

  Pip sighed. “Reasonably, and I suppose I had that coming.”

  “What makes you think he didn’t just get the wrong blank lock?”

  “They’re numbered. Would you walk to the wrong numbered lock in a strange port?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “If I was flustered enough.”

  Pip chewed the side of his mouth. “All right. I’ll give you that much.” He paused and looked back down the gallery. “Something is just weird.”

  Chapter 9

  Mel’s Place: 2376, February 2

  Mid-morning, station time, found me in the chandlery office looking for some installation help.

  “You want to do what again?” the chandlery supervisor asked.

  “I’ve got a steam kettle in my galley. I want it pulled out and replaced with a cabinet and some counter space.” I shrugged. “Anybody around here who can handle that?”

  “You know what kind of cabinet? Got the dimensions?”

  “Not on me. I figured I’d see if I could find somebody to do the work before I got too far into the well.”

  “Well, there’s a refit yard on the far side of the station, but I don’t expect you’d need that much yard work for a minor refit.” He rummaged in the top drawer of his desk. “Ole Man Douglas is probably your best bet. I’m looking for his magnet.”

  “Magnet?”

  “Aha!” he said and pulled out what looked like a chunk of rubber shaped like a pipe wrench. “Here it is. He’s left these all over.” He tossed it down on his desk where it stuck with a snap. “Got his name and address on it. He takes on odd jobs. Does good work.” He peeled the rubber off his desk and tossed it to me. “Here. See what he says.”

  I caught the thing and looked at the top. “Douglas and Sons, Refit/Refurb/Return” with an address. “And sons?” I asked.

  “Well, his sons got fed up and left about ten stanyers ago. Left him here.”

  “All right, then.” I waved the rubber in the supervisor’s general direction and headed back to the ship. I wanted to check with Pip before I did anything rash.

  I got about halfway down the docking gallery toward the Chernyakova before a pair of familiar figures levered themselves off the bulkhead. “Aunt P. Uncle Q,” I said. “Fancy running into you here.”

  “Gotta minute, Skipper?” Aunt P asked.

  “Sure. This about Pip and me crashing your party last night? I’m really sorry about that.”

  She shook her head. “No. Well, not exactly.” She stuck her hands into her pockets and glanced at Quentin. “How much do you know?”

  “Depends. What are we talking about?”

  “You pulled a hot iron out of the fire in Telluride. You didn’t just happen onto that with a load of beef.”

  “You must know what Pip knows. He turned in his report at Lumineux.”

  “Yeah, so did Maggie Stevens,” P said. A small herd of able spacers ambled along the gallery and P pulled me aside to let them pass. “Why’d you come back out?”

  “Back out? I’m not exactly following this.” I offered an apologetic shrug. “I’m not up on all the spycraft stuff.”

  “Spycraft?” P asked.

  “Whatever you call it. Pip and Chief Stevens are both looking for the mega, as nearly as I can tell. Pip mumbled something about a reward. I don’t know what Chief Stevens is getting out of it.”

  Aunt P shook her head. “Why are you back in the Toe-Holds?”

  “I just told you,” I said, trying to read something in either Aunt P or Uncle Q’s face.

  Aunt P frowned at me then looked at Uncle Q.

  “You’re looking for the mega?” Uncle Q asked.

  I nodded. “Well, and we’re piling up credits. Another few runs and we’ll have paid off the ship.”

  “Why were you at the restaurant last night?” he asked.

  “Dinner. We just got in yesterday. Went out to dinner. We ate there the last time we were here. The door guy asked for a different phrase than the one Pip remembered. Pip knew you owned it so he tried to pull on the Carstairs name.” I shrugged. “Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was just as good as I remember.”

  “Why’d you go snooping around the small ship dock last night?” Aunt P asked.

  “All Pip. He wanted to see which ship you flew out in.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I have no idea why Pip does anything. I just tag along. Sometimes it’s amusing. Sometimes it’s just Pip getting into mischief. Once in a while he gets us both in hot water.” I shrugged again.

  “You bought the Chernyakova with him,” Uncle Q said.

  “Yeah. He talked me into going into business with him over a stanyer ago with some story about a missing mega freighter. I didn’t even know about the Toe-Holds except as some vague historical reference. I went along with it because I needed something to do and—well—I thought maybe I could exorcise some ghosts from my past by putting the old girl to rights.”

  “Did you believe him?” Uncle Q asked, more curiosity and less confrontation in his tone.

  “Not at first. I’m not sure I do now. He seems to be trying to be a bit more truthful.”

  “How’d you get out of Telluride?” Aunt Q asked.

  “We almost didn’t. You must have read Pip’s report.”

  “Pretend we didn’t,” Aunt Q said.

  “We jumped in, scouted around the periphery of the system, and discovered we were being stalked by another ship. A miner warned us off and our stalker put a missile into it. We jumped out immediately and made our way to Port Lumineux. Chief Stevens and Pip both filed reports. We sold the can of beef to the station there and picked up a can going to Port Newmar.”

  “That’s it?” Aunt P asked.

  “I don’t know what else there might be.”

  “Last night. Did you see anybody at the table?” she asked.

  “You two, a woman, and a guy with a goatee,” I said. “There might have been others in the room but I didn’t see them.” I grinned at Uncle Q. “You hustled us out pretty quickly.”

  “Did you recognize anybody besides us?” Aunt P asked.

  “I didn’t, but Pip recognized the guy as being one of the people bidding against us for the Chern
yakova. Some High Line outfitter named Vagrant.”

  The two shared a look and Uncle Q shrugged.

  Uncle Q put a paw on my shoulder and stared at me. “We aren’t here. You didn’t see us. You didn’t see Vagrant. You never talked to Roger.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  He frowned and opened his mouth but stopped himself, offering a grin. “Thanks,” he said.

  “No problem. Will I ever find out what this is about?”

  “Ideally, no,” he said.

  “Can I ask a question?”

  He shrugged. “I may not be able to answer.”

  “Where is David Patterson?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “But you know the name,” I said.

  I caught the quick glance that Aunt P shot him before he answered. “Yes.”

  “If you needed to hire him, how would you go about it?”

  “He’s not a freelancer,” Aunt P said, breaking in before Uncle Q could answer. “The people he does business with all know him and he knows them.”

  “You don’t do business with him,” I said.

  They both shook their heads.

  “You know somebody who does,” Uncle Q said. “But he’s in prison.”

  “Simpson,” I said.

  He nodded. “Can I ask a question?”

  I grinned at him. “You’ve been doing pretty well at it so far.”

  “Why do you want Patterson?”

  “I don’t really know,” I said. “Having you two here without Pip, it seemed like a good opportunity. I’m going to have to deal with him sooner or later, I think.”

  Aunt P’s eyebrows shot up. “Deal with him?”

  “He killed my engineer,” I said. “TIC is saying it was an accident. Nobody was supposed to die. Pip was trying to convince me that my search for Patterson is my cover for coming to the Toe-Holds. Vengeance and all that. He’s also made it clear that there’s damn little I can do about it out here, even if I find him. He’s been making the case that Patterson works for TIC and that Simpson was just a side job.”

  “She was a lot more than your engineer,” Uncle Q said.

  I nodded. “She was.”

  Aunt Q leaned forward. “Out here, identities are liquid. You can be anybody you need to be. The High Line? That’s different. Every hatch you open, every bill you pay. Every time you put your thumb print down. It’s you. They track who, when, where. They can’t do much about the why but they know the rest.” She spoke quickly, words spraying like water from a hose.