Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) (33 page)

Tomkins tapped on the door, which was ajar. "Hey, Steve, how's the ribs?"

He looked up, stretching. "Feeling good. I did my first full workout in the gym yesterday. They hurt a bit, and the muscles between them and around the entry wound are kinda tight, but that's no surprise. I'm definitely on the mend."

"That's good. Listen, I just went down for breakfast. There were two guys at the desk, waiting for the clerk to finish talking to one of the rooms. One said to the other as I passed, 'Reckon Maxwell's here?' I came back to give you a heads-up."

Steve frowned. "I'm not expecting anyone. What did they look like?"

"Gray suits, kinda rumpled, black shoes. One was standing with his back to the counter. He was tall and skinny, hatchet-faced. The other was facing away from me, looking at the clerk. He was shorter, heavier-set, looked stocky and muscular rather than fat."

"OK, thanks for telling me. I guess I'd better go see what they want."

"Want company? If they're more newsies, trying to squeeze every drop of sensation out of you... "

Steve glowered. Since his release from hospital he'd been hounded by a few persistent, annoying journalists trying to wheedle out of him more gory details about the fight aboard
Cabot
. He'd refused to talk to any of them. The death of Bosun Cardle, and the vicious abuse he'd learned had been inflicted on the female members of
Cabot
's crew, were too fresh and raw in his mind to speak calmly about them.

"That might not be a bad idea, but we don't know if they're journalists."

"I was just going to eat, but that can wait if you'd like some help."

Steve glanced at his watch. It was mid-morning. Clearly, Tomkins had slept late. "Tell you what. Go get breakfast in the hotel cafeteria. If these guys seem on the level, at least initially, I'll invite them to talk to me in there over a cup of coffee. You can keep an eye on us. If they turn out to be the wrong sort of newsies, you can help me throw 'em out."

"Done! I'll get Dan Makin in case we need more muscle. We'd both enjoy that! Give me a minute's head start."

Steve grinned as he shut down the terminal. Dale had helped him throw a couple of overly nosy reporters into the hotel swimming-pool last weekend, clothes, vid recorder and all. They'd been furious, and threatened to sue. However, the pool waiter had pointed out that the hotel's security vid would show them jumping out at Steve and his colleague from behind a row of potted plants. It had seemed to him at first glance to be an attack, and would likely appear the same to the police if they'd like the hotel to call them - which he'd be glad to arrange. The bedraggled, indignant newsies had backed down, and dripped disconsolately out of the hotel.

He came out of the elevator near the reception desk to hear the desk clerk say, "Oh, here he comes now!" She nodded toward him, and the two gray-suited men glanced in his direction as he looked inquiringly at them.

"Are you Steve Maxwell?" the taller man asked.

"Yes." Steve walked towards them. "May I help you?"

The man produced an official-looking ID wallet from an inside pocket, but exposed it so briefly that Steve didn't see it clearly. "I'm Detective Sergeant Michaels, Virginia City PD. This is Detective Higgs. We're - "

"I'm sorry," Steve interrupted, "but I didn't get a chance to look at your ID. May I see it again, please?"

"Why? Don't you trust us?"

"You've just claimed to be a police officer. I'd like to verify that before we go any further. I'd like to see your colleague's ID as well, please."

Frowning, both men took out their ID wallets and handed them over. Steve examined them closely. A printed card on one side bore each man's photograph and personal information. A stainless steel shield on the other was emblazoned with the city's seal and a four-digit number. He made a mental note of both numbers, then handed the wallets to the desk clerk.

"Ma'am, can you confirm these are Virginia City PD credentials, please?"

She glanced at them. "They look OK to me. We see them often enough in this business. I've never met these officers before, though."

"Thanks." He returned the wallets to their owners. "I'm sorry if I appear suspicious, but I've had too many nosy newsies trying to sneak up on me any way they could, including by pretending to be officials from different agencies."

"I guess I can understand that," Michaels said - a little grudgingly, Steve thought. "You've certainly been in the news since your ship arrived, and even more since the Sector Admiral's office announced you're getting a medal."

"Yes. All this fuss is no fun at all! Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"We need to talk with you privately. Can we go up to your room?"

"You're welcome to join me for coffee in the cafeteria. It's mid-morning, so it won't be busy. We can take a table away from other guests."

"I guess that'll have to do for now."

The cafeteria was almost deserted. Steve chose a table near the door, and made sure he chose a seat facing Dale Tomkins and Dan Makin, who were seated three tables away and ordering from the lone waiter on duty.

As the three of them sat down, the waiter came over to their table. "Coffee all round," Detective Higgs ordered before Steve could speak. His voice was deep, rasping and rough.

"You got it." The man turned and walked towards the serving counter.

Steve suppressed his annoyance at the policeman's abrupt presumption. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked.

The Sergeant took a small black box from an inside jacket pocket and set it on the table, pressing a button on the side. "I presume you won't object to our recording this conversation?"

Steve reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pen-like recorder. "I don't mind; but in that case, I'll do the same." He activated it and said, "This is a recording of a conversation with Detective Sergeant Michaels, badge number 5136, and Detective Higgs, badge number 5347, both of the Virginia City Police Department." He added the date, time and location, then set the device on the table.

Michaels looked at him suspiciously. "Just how is it you happen to be carrying a recorder on you?"

"I told you, newsies have been trying to wheedle more information out of me. They've misquoted me several times. I asked one of the Fleet Admiral's liaison officers how to deal with that. She advised me to record any and all conversations with them, in order to be able to correct any false or misleading reports; so I bought this last week."

"I see." He paused as the waiter returned with a carafe of coffee, filling their cups. They all added sweetener and creamer to taste, then he went on, "We need to know what your business was with a jade dealer, Mr. David Lamington, a year ago."

Steve gaped for a moment. The question had caught him off-guard. He felt his muscles tighten as he suddenly recalled the Bosun's warning the previous year.
"Remember what I said about how deep Tong influence runs? They might bribe a cop to ask the questions for them."

He tried to compose himself. "I'm not sure what you mean. I had no dealings with him at all. I was on the way to the Fleet Recruiting Office with Bosun Cardle. He stopped at Mr. Lamington's shop to do some private business with him."

"That's not what we heard. We were told you were part of the whole affair."

Warning bells sounded louder in Steve's mind as he frowned. "What 'affair' are you talking about? And who told you that?"

"We don't disclose the identity of our informants. We - "

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but I won't tolerate someone lying about me. I want to know who said that before we go any further."

"You're in no position to insist on anything, spacer." Higgs' tone was blunt and threatening. "We're talking about murder here!"

"Murder?"
Steve sat upright with a jolt. "What do you mean?"

"Your Mr. Lamington was found stabbed to death in the back office of his store last week. Word has it you might know something about that. In particular, we hear interesting things about an old jade knife."

He's lying!
, Steve realized in a flash.
They've
got
to know I know nothing about Lamington's murder. They're really looking for information about the knife!

He thought swiftly. "I'm sorry to hear he's dead, but I know nothing about it. I was discharged from hospital two weeks ago. Since then I've been convalescing, staying mostly in this hotel along with my shipmates. The League of Merchant Spacers has put up all of us here for a month. I don't know when Mr. Lamington was killed, but I'm sure I can produce witnesses or other evidence as to where I was at the time. As for a jade knife, I know the Bosun showed him some photographs of one. He said he'd seen it back at Old Home Earth. Mr. Lamington seemed very excited about it, and said it was pretty valuable. Apparently there was some sort of reward offered for it, or for information about it."

"You don't know when or where your Bosun saw the knife, or who had it at the time?" Michaels asked. "That's very important information. It might give us a clue as to why Mr. Lamington was killed."

Steve spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully. "If I recall correctly, I think he saw it during the same visit on which he recruited me, in January last year. He didn't tell me who owned it. I heard him tell Mr. Lamington he'd brought him pictures of it because it looked interesting, and he wanted to find out more about it. I understand he sold some jade pieces to Mr. Lamington a few years ago. That's how he knew him, so I presume that's why he decided to ask him about the knife."

There!
, he thought to himself.
Every word I just said is precisely and literally true. If I have to repeat them under a truth-tester, it won't catch me in a lie. I'd better keep that up, just in case!

"That's not what we heard," Higgs said abruptly. "We heard your Bosun got hold of the knife during a fight aboard the Cargo Terminal at Old Home Earth, and was trying to find out what it was worth. Word has it you were mixed up in that fight, too." He glowered suspiciously as he spoke.

Steve shook his head firmly. "I've never been involved in - in fact, I've never even heard of - a fight where a jade knife was used as a weapon. Most of the guys on the Terminal reached for broken bottles or brass knuckles when their dander was up. If knives or guns were used, the cops got involved, and they had no sense of humor at all about breaking up those fights the hard way. I saw them do it once. That was enough to make me steer well clear of them!"

I don't think I'll mention the Dragon Tong, or their device to scramble the police network
, he decided silently.
I doubt these cops would appreciate that!

"D'you think it's possible your Bosun actually took or bought the knife back at Old Home Earth, and had it in his possession?" Michaels asked.

Steve shrugged. "How should I know? I was a Spacer Apprentice at first, then a Spacer Third Class. He was a Bosun, one of the ship's warrant officers, in charge of all her spacers. Someone as junior as me - the most junior spacer on board, in fact - would never dare ask him questions about his private business. That'd be a good way to get fired! Besides, I wouldn't even have known what questions to ask."

"He traded on his own account, didn't he?" Higgs asked. "If so, he could have sold the knife on any of the planets you visited after Old Home Earth."

"Sure,
if
he had it - but I don't know that he did. There's another thing. Ship's regulations forbade any of us from keeping weapons in our quarters. The Bosun went by the book, and made us do the same, so I doubt he'd have kept anything illegal in his cabin. I don't recall seeing any entry about a jade knife in the register of the ship's strong-room, where we kept our valuables. We had to declare them in writing, and their value, if we wanted to store them there - the ship's insurance required it."

"There's that," Michaels agreed thoughtfully. "Where can we find a record of who the Bosun traded with at each planet?"

"He kept his trading records in encrypted format on a private computer, DNA-keyed to himself alone."

"That's pretty stringent security for a small-time trader, isn't it?"

"He wasn't all that small-time. Some spacers said he was one of the most successful traders they'd ever known. He seemed to have a nose for the market; what was in demand and where, what was available from suppliers at low cost, and how to marry one with the other. It was rumored - although I don't know for sure - that he made several times more than his salary every year through private trading. That sort of money might justify the precautions he took."

"Perhaps. He didn't talk about his trading partners with the crew?"

"Of course not! None of the crew would do that. Most of them traded privately. If they mentioned the names of their contacts to other crew members, one or more might try to cut in on them. No spacer wants more competition than absolutely necessary, so all of them tended to keep their trading partners to themselves."

"I see. You've got custody of the Bosun's private possessions now, haven't you?"

"Not yet. The Prize Court will release his personal gear to Captain Volschenk next week. I'm going to deliver it on his behalf to the Bosun's brother and sister on New Brisbane. His professional equipment will form part of the prize auction."