The Legacy of Lehr (18 page)

Shannon shook her head. “No one on our list is on record as taking anything that could do that, either. I correlated everyone's medical records on the entire ship.”

“Well, what does
that
mean?” Lutobo asked.

“It means,” said Wallis, comparing her list with Shannon's, “that one of the people on this list will have such a substance in his bloodstream now—so in a worst-case scenario, we can simply draw blood from all of them until we find our probable murderer.”

“The
probable
murderer?” the captain muttered. “Wouldn't that be conclusive proof?”

“No, because more than one person could have taken such a drug. What
would
be conclusive proof is that our man also has at least one force-blade wound and probably several cat lacerations. He's likely to move a little carefully; the wounds may even be infected, Lehr cat claws being what they are. Our type A-positive accomplice is also likely to have a cat scratch or two, but he may be more difficult to spot, since he probably didn't get scratched as badly, judging by the amount of A-positive blood we found.”

The captain's face had gone stony with suspicion as Wallis spoke, and now he glanced from her to Mather to Shannon and then back to Mather; he scowled as one of the Rangers brought Wallis another computer printout. “Seton, if this is some kind of clever cover-up or stall tactic—”

“And just
what
am I supposed to be covering up or stalling for, Captain?” Mather demanded, setting his fists on his hips. “Granted, the cats are very important to us. You checked with our superiors, and you know the scope of our authority, so you can imagine the value the Imperial government sets on the cats. But if you think, even for a minute, that I would deliberately jeopardize the lives of innocent people aboard this vessel, just to complete my mission successfully, then you are very much mistaken.”

“Well—how do you plan to proceed, then?” Lutobo replied, a little taken aback at the newest turn of events.

Wallis, who had been scanning the second list with Shannon, raised an eyebrow as she glanced up at him. “As a matter of fact. Captain, Doctor Shannon and I talked with a man on each of these lists, only yesterday. They both have some knowledge of Lehr cats—and, therefore, a conceivable connection with what's been going on. Not that this necessarily makes them any more likely suspects than anyone else on the lists, but they're a good starting point.”

“Who are they?”

“Vander Torrell, the historian who sat at your table the other night,” Wallis said, “and a man called Reynal. He helped us track the cats on B-Gem.”

“Who would have thought Torrell has good old A-positive blood?” Shannon murmured. “I thought it would be blue, to hear him talk. I guess we do have something in common, after all.”

Lutobo glanced at her suspiciously. “Then you're on the list, too, Doctor.”

“And so am I, and so is Mather,” Wallis interjected, “along with a good third of the human population. However, it does leave Torrell right near the top of the list—though I'd guess that our B-positive suspect is the more dangerous of the two. I think I'd like to have blood samples from both Reynal and Torrell, for starters, to check for that odd drug—and see if either of them has any wounds he can't account for. It we come up cold, we'll start working our way down the rest of the lists.”

“Well, I can have Doctor Shannon call them in to be checked, if that's all it's going to take,” Lutobo said.

“True,” Wallis agreed, “but I'd rather do it myself, if you don't mind. I've had more training in this sort of thing than Doctor Shannon. I'll take along two Rangers as well. That way, if one one of these men
is
our murderer, we can deal with him. You're welcome to come along, though, Captain.”

Lutobo still looked doubtful, but finally he snorted under his breath and folded his arms resolutely. “Very well, we'll try it your way for now, Doctor. Not that I'm totally convinced, you understand.” He pointed at Mather. “I still don't trust those cats of yours—and I want to leave some of my own security here,
inside this hold
, while I go with Doctor Hamilton.”

Mather spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “As long as they're outside the shields, as my men also will be, I consider that most equitable, Captain. In fact, I'll join you as soon as I've made a few final adjustments.”

“Suit yourself,” the captain muttered. “Mind you, though, if the cats do turn out to be involved in any way—”

“Captain—”

With a perplexed sigh, Mather glanced at Wallis and Shannon, at the cats, back at Lutobo, then briskly drew his needler and strode back to the cat cages, holding the weapon close along his thigh. The female whose mate had been slain was still asleep; the other pair sat quite still and looked at him suspiciously as he approached, the male occasionally letting out a low, warning growl.

Mather studied the pair for several seconds, recalling the price the animals had extracted even before the
Valkyrie
—the bearers injured and maimed during the capture, the two Rangers killed on B-Gem. Then he glanced down wistfully at the weapon in his hand and raised it, carefully squeezing off a needle into each animal's side. The cats looked startled; the female started to bite at the spot where the dart had struck; and then both of them staggered and collapsed to the floor of their cage. Behind him, Mather heard someone let out a low sigh.

Holstering his weapon, Mather reached up and turned on the scanners above the two groggy cats. He could hear the others approaching behind him as he watched the readings stabilize and the cats slipped into labored sleep. The touch on his arm was Wallis's as he turned to face the captain.

“Would you say that the cats are now incapable of voluntary action, Captain?” Mather asked.

Lutobo's dark eyes flicked over the cats briefly, then returned to Mather's face. “You're really certain they're innocent, aren't you?” he said gruffly. “So certain, you'd endanger them to make sure they can't be implicated any further.”

“In the final analysis, we're talking about human lives, aren't we, Captain?”

Lutobo looked around uncomfortably—at Shannon and Wallis standing by, Wallis with hard copies of the blood lists in her hands; at Mather and his Rangers; at his own security men—then clasped his hands behind his back and rocked up and down a few times on the balls of his feet.

“Very well. Doctor Hamilton, I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me at least the semblance of command in this operation, but otherwise, I shall bow to your expertise, both medical and otherwise. And I'll insist that you get the cooperation you need. Doctor Shannon, I think it best if you return to Medical Section for now. We still have a shipful of passengers to care for.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Courtenay, I'll ask you to come with us, please,” he said to his security chief.

“Ay, sir.”

“Take Wing and Casey for your Rangers,” Mather said to Wallis, reasoning that if a Ranger
was
their second suspect and was one of the two he had chosen, at least the other might be able to neutralize him if he tried anything. “I'll join you at Reynal's cabin as soon as I've finished here. Don't take any foolish chances.”

“Don't worry,” she said with a laugh.

Wallis was not laughing by the time she and her party reached the crew lift. And when the lift stopped at Level Four, one deck short of where Reynal's cabin lay, the reaction of the couple waiting to board reminded her how formidable a band they must appear: she and her Rangers, Lutobo, and Courtenay. The couple decided not to board—she could hardly blame them—but just as the doors began to close, Wallis lurched toward the control panel and hit the door button, worming her way between the doors as soon as they had opened far enough.

“I saw Torrell,” she murmured over her shoulder as she leaned out to peer to the right, then pointed toward a tall, retreating figure. “There he is. Let's take him right now, since he's here.”

With a glance at the captain, who nodded, Casey and then Courtenay and Wing hurried after. Torrell looked surprised and a little annoyed as they, Wallis, and the captain converged on him.

“Is something wrong, Captain?” he asked. His manner was coldly appraising as he glanced among them.

“I hope not, Mister Torrell.”

“It's
Doctor
Torrell—”

“Very well,
Doctor
Torrell,” Lutobo said. “There's a steward's station just a few meters down the corridor, where we can have some privacy. I'd like you please to step inside with us to answer a few questions.”

Torrell started to object, but he suddenly realized that he was now flanked by Courtenay and both Rangers, and that other nearby passengers were watching with increasing curiosity. No one laid a hand on him, but the implied threat was no less real for that. With a curt “Very well,” Torrell moved with them without resistance to the door of the steward's station. Lutobo, on checking the room and finding it empty, stood aside and motioned for the others to enter. As soon as the door had closed behind them all, Torrell turned on Lutobo.

“I don't suppose you'd mind telling me what this is all about, Captain?”

“We're conducting an investigation, Doctor Torrell. Would you please remove your jacket and your shirt?”

“My what?”

As he realized that Lutobo was serious, Torrell went into a tirade. “I'll do no such thing! What is this, anyway? Star chamber proceedings? I warn you, Doctor Hamilton?” he barked, even more agitated when he saw that Wallis was removing an instrument from her medical kit. “If you think you can drug me and get away with it, you're dead wrong. You have no right—”

“As captain of this ship, I have all the right I need, Torrell,” the captain said calmly, “and you won't be drugged unless that's what it takes for Doctor Hamilton to get a sample of your blood. Now, are you going to make this easy or difficult?”

Torrell looked as if he had been seriously considering making it difficult, but before he could open his mouth to tell them, Casey cleared his throat and snapped from parade rest to attention, slightly behind and to Torrell's right. The sound and movement froze Torrell in his place. He turned and looked hard at the impassive Casey, pivoted to glance at Wing and Courtenay, now flanking him, then turned back to Lutobo uncertain and definitely subdued.

“Captain, there had better be a very good reason for this,” he said uneasily, unfastening his jacket and shirt and starting to remove both at once.

Before he could get free of either sleeve, Casey and Wing caught him deftly by his shirt- and jacket-tangled arms and held him long enough for Wallis to take her sample. Torrell went a little pale as she drew the blood, but he sensed it was best not to struggle or protest too much with a needle in his arm. His bravado returned when they released him, however, even his color coming back as he wriggled out of his jacket the rest of the way and then continued wrestling with his shirt. Wallis, as she stored the sample in her medical kit, decided that Torrell probably was
not
their killer—but in case he was, she had a strong knockout hypo waiting for him—for in these close quarters, there might not be time for needlers.

“I hope you're enjoying this, Doctor,” Torrell said sarcastically, finally freeing one wrist from his shirt and shifting his attention to the other. “Usually, when I undress in front of a women, there's no other audience. Or maybe it's the
captain
who's enjoying it!” He pulled off the shirt the rest of the way and flung it at Lutobo, then stood defiantly, hands on his hips, glaring. “Are you satisfied, Captain? I'm going to hold you personally responsible for this outrage. You won't get away with it, you know.”

Calmly, Lutobo handed the clothing to Courtenay to hold. “Neither threats nor insults will make this any easier, Doctor Torrell,” Lutobo said. “Just do as you're told and turn around, please.”

“Of course, Captain. Anything you say, Captain, sir!” Torrell turned around several times, making assorted mocking poses and postures as he did. Wallis looked closely at his arms and chest as he turned, but aside from a few obviously old and very minor scars—and several sets of parallel welts on his back, from a far more human kind of cat than those residing in the hold—there was no sign of a wound anywhere on his body.

“He seems to be clean, Captain,” Wallis murmured, closing her kit on the hypo. “I don't think we need to see any more.”

With a nod, Lutobo sighed for Courtenay to return Terrell's clothing. The historian glanced at the captain with something akin to loathing as he thrust his arms back into his shirt.

“What, no total skin search, Lutobo?” he said with a sneer, shrugging the shirt into place and straightening the cuffs. “I'll have your job for this. Just watch me! I plan to take legal action as soon as we reach Tersel. You can bet your pension on it. I don't suppose you'd like to tell me now what you were looking for, to excuse this outrageous treatment?”

Lutobo remained impassive. “I apoligize for any inconvenience or embarrassment you may have suffered, Doctor Torrell. We have reason to believe that someone of your blood type was wounded by one of the Lehr cats early this morning, while trying to kill it. If my manner seemed somewhat precipitous, it's because three people have been murdered aboard this ship in the last thirty-six hours.”

“And you thought that
I
might have committed those murders?”

“We thought you might be an accomplice,” Wallis said. “You have the right blood type.”

Torrell snatched his jacket from Courtenay and jammed it under his arm in a wad before wrenching the door open. “I'll see you in court, Doctor! And you, too, Captain!
All
of you!”